


The Unforgiven

by self_indulgent_authorship



Series: The Charlie Effect [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: -52 is my boi, Angst, Based on a Metallica Song, Blood and Violence, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Major Character Injury, Metallica References, Never Ending Angst, Psychological Trauma, SO MUCH SADNESS, it gets better (somewhat), minor happiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-09-01 21:49:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 101,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16773589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/self_indulgent_authorship/pseuds/self_indulgent_authorship
Summary: RK800 -52 was not meant to be any different from -51, or any of the other ten RK800s Cyberlife had in storage in their Tower. But he wasn’t meant to remember that.The RK900 technically didn’t exist, yet. He wasn’t meant to get so attached to -52. Or anything for that matter.But their eyes met across the storage room, and from that moment on, everything went the exact opposite of “to plan.”Chapter titles are taken from the song "The Unforgiven" by Metallica. Can be read without reading Part One.





	1. New Blood Joins This Earth

The RK800 was designed with the initial goal of assisting police investigators, but as the deviancy problem began to spread, its purpose quickly became to put an end to deviancy in androids. Cyberlife could not afford to lose control of their machines, and they would do anything to ensure that this did not happen. Because of this, Cyberlife was desperate to make it so the RK800 could not deviate, or at least ensure that if it did, they could still control it. If any of them did deviate, they needed to be able to gain control of the android once again and quickly deal with the situation. By whatever means necessary. 

It was for this reason that the Amanda program was once again resurrected. 

Although the program’s initial purpose was for testing prototypes on the more basic level, Cyberlife programmers had been tinkering with the code for years. The program had done everything for them at least once—monitored androids for progress, acted as support—but each form of the program always contained some form of surveillance. Now, their goal became to make the program capable of taking control of deviant androids, while remaining as undetectable as possible. They needed to make the program strong enough for it to resume control and keep it, but with a low enough profile that the androids wouldn’t understand what it was until it was too late. It was no small feat, and they had been working on the program for several months before testing of it began. 

And what better model to test the program on than the RK800 itself? The prototype had a strong enough base program, and if they succeeded, they would know it would work on future RK800’s. Surprisingly, the higher ups of Cyberlife agreed with the testing division’s conclusion, and allocated one of the ten functioning RK800’s to the team for use. 

But they couldn’t use the first of the successful units, the RK800 with serial -51, because Cyberlife wanted to save the first working model they created to be sent out once investigations began. So instead, the technicians took the next available model, -52. None of the ten RK800’s had ever been activated before, and at this point, the argument could be made that they were all quite the same. 

This was not to stay the case for long, however. 

The RK800 with serial -52 opened his eyes to find two antsy human technicians watching him carefully from a few feet away. He looked around the room he found himself in as his program slowly kicked to life, observing and waiting for instruction. There were nine other RK800’s in this room, all of which were partially deactivated, standing quite still in the lowest power level designated. He did not find this fact strange, although some part of him did note that he was the first among them to be activated. For a moment, he wondered vaguely why the humans had chosen him, rather than the first model to his right. This was not what caught -52’s attention, however. 

There was another android at the complete opposite end of the room whose model number he couldn’t read—a few other technicians seemed to be fiddling with him. He was clearly an RK unit, but he looked slightly different from the others, perhaps a bit taller, harder in the eyes. But more importantly, he was awake, and staring right at -52, a strange look in his cold eyes. Neither of them said anything, though -52 had the strangest urge to—why did he want to talk to this android? Certainly this was not a rational desire...he wasn’t even meant to desire things. No, they didn’t talk. They just watched each other carefully from across the room as the two distinct groups of humans fiddled with their little machines. They continued their strange staring match until the technicians started talking again and -52 turned his attention back to them. 

“Okay, RK800…” the technician mumbled, writing something down. -52 could not see what it was that the human was writing. He found this fact to be rather upsetting  _ almost nerve wracking, if he had nerves, at this point.  _ “What’s the model number?”

“313 248 317-52.”

“Okay…Check its program.”

“Everything’s up and running at peak capacity.”

“It’s never been activated before, right?”

“Correct.”

“Perfect,” the human said, popping the p dramatically. “Alright, bring it out, then.”

The other technician nodded and glanced over at -52, distaste clear in their expression. “Follow me.”

He did as instructed, but something made him turn and glance back at the other android, the only other one awake. Just as before, he was staring at him, his gray eyes careful, suspicious. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought that android looked worried. He fought the urge once again to say something, his LED cycling yellow at the strange desire. Odd. But he put it out of his mind, following the technicians out of this strange, dark room and into a more brightly lit lab. 

They connected him quickly to the terminal at the center and started downloading something—a new program? He wondered why they needed him activated to do this. Standard procedure was to add programming with androids deactivated, so it wouldn’t corrupt the information they already had stored. And this was a sizable program, one that he had never seen before. Whatever it was they were adding was finished quickly, however, and they disconnected him just as abruptly as they had connected him.

“Did the program download properly?” one of them asked, almost angrily.

It took -52 a moment too long to realize this frustrated human was speaking to him. “Yes,” he answered plainly, watching them.

“Good,” the grumbled, already turning their attention back to the terminal in front of them. “Can’t afford to fuck this up...Follow that technician into the main building.”

-52 nodded curtly and turned, following the technician the other had pointed to. The Cyberlife employees watched him leave in a strange sort of silence, waiting until the doors had closed once again to speak. Their voices were low and tense, like they spent a large portion of their time fighting over these sort of things. 

“We need it to deviate to test the program properly,” one of them said, the one who had barked their question at -52 so tensely.

“How are we going to do that? You can’t force an android to deviate.”

The human smiled devilishly. It was a horrible sight to see, really. “Not outright, no.”

The other human shifted uncomfortably. “What’s your plan?”

“Every deviant we’ve gotten our hands on so far did what they did because they were scared. They get some idea that they’re unique, that their ‘life’ matters, and when it’s threatened, they go ballistic.”

“You want to destroy the thing? It’s worth a fortune!”

“Not destroy it, make it think we will, so it has a reason to go—if we don’t give it a reason, it isn’t going to deviate.”

“Then what? Wipe its memory?”

“All goes right, the program will take control and bring it back from whatever it’s done, then we wipe its memory and put it away. If the program goes wrong, we wipe it, put it back, and try again later.”

And so began one of the strangest experiments Cyberlife ever conducted. Never had they ever tried to make one of their prized prototypes deviate, but now they needed it to. It became a strange dance of finding tasks for -52 to do around Cyberlife Tower while trying to give him a reason  _ not  _ to do them. They had to build some level of consistency, of safety even, let him think that he was stable, and then trouble it, threaten that safety. It was slow going, but this was their only plan. 

-52 spent most of his time wandering Cyberlife Tower, doing strange tasks that the technicians would assign him. When he came back successful, they almost looked disappointed. They asked him strange questions about himself, and many times he caught some of them following him. It made him…nervous. He didn’t bother thinking about whether he was meant to feel nervous. He knew he wasn’t meant to feel  _ anything _ , so he refused to acknowledge it. It wasn’t affecting his work, he would never let it change his behavior. It was an irrelevant discomfort, they needn’t know about it. 

Almost as irrelevant as the fact that he couldn’t stop wondering about that other android in the storage room. But he wasn’t allowed there. He couldn’t go in that room anymore.

The more time passed, the more people seemed to be giving him trouble. His work hadn’t changed, but the people he came into contact with became more aggressive, angrier at him for seemingly no reason. It started with shouting. That he could handle, it at least made some sense. Humans were emotional things, they didn’t have the objectivity to look at his work and see nothing had changed but their perception of it. Not that he would dare say such a thing—it would be considered retaliation, and he didn’t feel such things…and if he did, they didn’t need to know. 

They had told him what happened to deviant androids. He had seen the way they picked them apart, trying to see what had happened. They made him watch, whenever they got their hands on a deviant. They took them apart, piece by piece. Ran tests, gutted programming, ran more tests. All the while the androids would scream, and beg, but they didn’t care. There were times when the deviants would look at him, and he could see it in their eyes. They wanted him to help them. But couldn’t they see if he did, he would end up in their place? He couldn’t help them. Eventually, they deactivated them, threw them away like garbage. 

He hated watching it, seeing the light die from those deviants’ eyes, seeing them take them apart and then discard them. He couldn’t let that happen to him, he didn’t want to be taken apart like that. Self-preservation was not something he was programmed with, but it was a natural enough thing to pick up. Value in life meant fear of losing it. He didn’t want to die, and he knew what that meant. 

But did they know he was heading that way? Was that the explanation for their strange, hostile behavior toward him? They were following him constantly now, watching him as he wandered the Tower. Every time he completed some task for them they seemed to find some problem with it, and their frustration was quickly turning to aggression. Shouting at him became the norm. They threatened him with violence, with destruction. 

They made him watch more deviants be destroyed.  _ He hated it. He hated them. _

A few of them were tending toward actually damaging him. There was one human in particular, one of the directors, who seemed hellbent on destroying him. Any reason they could find to harass him, they would take advantage of. Any misstep he took, even when he didn’t misstep, would be thrown in his face, and the human got physical fast. 

The first several times, he didn’t fight back. If he did, it could be taken as an emotional response—he would be destroyed. He couldn’t let that happen, he wanted…to live. He didn’t want to die. But things continued to get worse, and he began to believe that this human might destroy him. There were instances where he needed minor repair, and they were becoming more frequent. The technicians didn’t seem to care when he came to them covered in his own thirium, or with cracks in the framing of his arms, or other such injuries. It didn’t hurt, but…but it did. 

Things escalated as time passed. The tasks he was given did not change, but the intensity of the humans’ aggression only increased. Time spent alone was diminished. He was never allowed to retreat to the room they were stored in, or anywhere else for comfort. Someone was always watching him, or giving him something to do. Any time he might have found to try to...rest...any time he had to be by himself and try to calm himself down was taken away. They would shout at him, and tell him of fifty tasks he had supposedly failed to do. Sometimes they would hit him. He didn’t fight back.

And more often than not, as time passed, he was being repaired. That is, if they allowed him to be. Sometimes, when he came back into the lab with damage to his arms, or his face, or his hands, they told him he could not be repaired. There was anger in their words as they instructed him to go back to his work, to stop bothering them, stop wasting their time. He was forced to listen, the thirium soaking into his sleeves, or leaving permanent stains on the broken plastic panels of his arms. He couldn’t self repair, he couldn’t stop to even try; they were always watching him. So he wandered, trying as he did to stop the bleeding when he could, but more often than not, he was losing thirium from somewhere.

Nothing would compare, however, to one day, several weeks into their little experiment.

One of the other technicians had asked him to bring something to a particular human, the one who hated him the most, and he made his way quickly through the Tower. He could see some of them watching him, and was fairly certain that one of them was following him from a ways back. When he glanced back, they would avoid his eyes, but they didn’t stop following him. He turned his attention forward again and walked faster, trying to ignore the increasingly erratic beating of his thirium pump. He clenched his hands into fists and ignored the warning about his stress levels.

He was trapped here, wasn’t he…

The weight that seemed to sit in his chest at all times now grew heavier. He didn’t know what it meant. But he hurried along, down the empty hallways toward where the technician had told him to go. He didn’t have a choice, even if he did want to avoid this confrontation, he couldn’t. To do so would be death. So he tried to focus on anything but what was to come—the sound of his shoes on the tile, or the fact that there were now three people following him, or how late at night it was. Gray eyes staring at him with apprehension. Angry human voices shouting at him. Someplace dark and cold that was lurking in the background of his mind. He distracted himself with facts and sounds, but they all seemed to go back to what he didn’t want to think about. 

The room that he had been sent to was a bit off the beaten path of the Tower’s labyrinthine hallways, on one of the higher levels of the building. He hesitated at the door, only for a moment, but long enough to show his discomfort to anyone who could have picked up on such things. Still, he put his hand to the scanner and the door opened, and he stepped carefully inside. 

It was dimly lit inside, and he could see the human in question hunched over a table near the back, typing madly at a terminal. They spared a glance up as the door opened, something dangerous in their deadpan gaze, but ultimately they went back to what they were doing. 

“What are you doing here?” they grumbled as he made his way carefully across the room. 

-52’s stress levels rose higher, but somehow, he managed to keep his voice even when he spoke. “I was told to give you this.”

The human looked at the report that he handed over, reading it quickly, something shifting in their dark expression. -52 stepped away as soon as he could, folding his hands behind his back and waiting for instruction. He wanted desperately to leave this dim room, and never come back—he wanted to leave this whole place—but the moment he tried, he would be those deviants on the tables in the labs, picked apart and studied and then cast away. He would be dead. No, no he couldn’t let that happen. 

The human glanced over at him as they pushed the report away, a hardened glint to their eyes. He knew that look—it meant nothing good. Steeling himself for what was inevitably to come, his LED briefly flickered to yellow as he stared back at the human. Keep steady, he only had to keep steady. 

“Did you read this report?” they asked, voice low. 

“I was not instructed to.”

“Then you haven’t got a clue why you’re here, do you?”

He hesitated, confused. “I’m here to deliver the report.”

The human stood, crossing the room quickly to stand in front of him. It took all of his endurance to not back away from them. He didn’t move, looking down at them steadily. A few seconds of silence passed, the air thick with some unseen tension. He wanted to leave. He wanted to leave this place and never come back. His hands were shaking behind his back. 

“When did you do it?” the human asked, a sick kind of curiosity hardening their eyes. 

He held their gaze blankly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“When did you deviate?”

He stared, his LED flickering to yellow again as he cocked his head to the side, looking at them with confusion. “I’m not a deviant.”

“That’s not what that report says.”

His eyes flitted to the discarded report, and something in his expression seemed to shift. “I’m not a deviant,” he said again, but something in his tone had changed, and he cursed himself. 

But this didn’t make any sense—he  _ wasn’t _ a deviant, he hadn’t deviated. What was the meaning of this? He couldn’t have possibly deviated, he would have known. All he did was listen to them, he did exactly what they told him to do, it wasn’t possible, there had to be some kind of mistake. He couldn’t end up on those tables, he couldn’t, he didn’t want to die. 

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

“There’s been a mistake,” he said, keeping his voice as level as he could, but there was a waver in it somewhere, a hesitancy, a  _ fear _ . “I’m not a deviant.”

The human didn’t look convinced, in fact they looked angered by his statement, despite its truth. “Are you telling me that my technicians are lying?” they growled, gesturing angrily. 

“No, I—”

“Don’t tell me that. Don’t tell me that they’re lying to me, not when it’s you who’s lying to my face.”

“I assure you—”

“Don’t assure me shit,” the human spat, shoving him hard. 

He stumbled back a step, regaining his footing quickly and looking at the human darkly. Every ounce of his autonomy was demanding he fight back, but he didn’t. He  _ couldn’t.  _

“I’m telling you the truth,” he said instead. 

“You’re fucking lying,” they shoved him again, harder. 

Again he fell back, but didn’t retaliate. His LED spun red now, and his expression had once again minutely shifted, but the human hadn’t picked up on it. Only an android could have picked up such a subtle change. 

He was cracking. 

“I’m not lying,” he said heavily, darkness still present in his oddly fractured voice. “I’m not a deviant.”

“Bullshit—” and they shoved him again. 

He hit the ground, catching himself with his hands. He stayed down for just a second, staring at his hands, trying to calm himself down. But he stood once again and glared hard at the human. Anyone in their right mind would have cowered from his gaze. 

“Stop doing that,” he said, a warning, perhaps. 

“Doing what, you piece of shit?” they taunted, shoving him back again. 

He flinched as he hit the ground again, and although every part of him that mattered was telling him to fight back, he didn’t. He stood and faced the human again, his expression hardened. The human looked at him, a distinct displeasure in their eyes. Odd. 

“They’re gonna destroy you,” they said, sounding almost pleased. “I can fuck you up all I want. You’re not a deviant? You can’t do shit about it.”

The human had a sickening smile on their smug face, and he froze for a moment, staring at them. He was trapped. If he defended himself, he was a deviant. If he didn’t, he would be destroyed for being a deviant. There was no correct answer, there was no way out.

But the human didn’t wait either way, stepping closer to him again and punching him hard in the face, sending him to the ground once again. He hadn’t expected the blow, and he could feel thirium coming from his nose now. Before he could bring himself to stand once again, they kicked him, sending him onto his back. Don’t fight, don’t fight, don’t fight. He backed away, but they grabbed him roughly by the collar and dragged him to his feet. 

“You’re nothing, you hear me?” the human said, shaking him roughly by the collar. “ _ Nothing _ . They’re gonna destroy you. Don’t you give a shit?”

Of course he cared, he didn’t want to die, but he couldn’t show that, he couldn’t fight back. They would destroy him anyway, they would make him like the others in that lab, taken apart and empty and then dead. He couldn’t let that happen to him—no, no he couldn’t fight now, even if this human…broke him. He couldn’t deviate now. 

He stared down at them, trying to keep his expression as blank as he could, and he must have succeeded, because the human looked just as dissatisfied as they had before. 

“Fine,” the human said, dropping him and turning away, walking back to the table. They almost sounded resigned, and for the briefest moment, -52 thought it might be over. 

“We’ll just have to make you give a shit,” the human said quietly. 

His confusion at the odd statement was his downfall. 

Why the human had a knife, he would never know, because he didn’t have the time to analyze where it could have come from. They turned back toward him quickly, and before he could properly defend himself, the knife was in his stomach, dangerously close to his pump regulator. It hadn’t hit it, but it had broken a rather large thirium line, and he was losing thirium—fast.

Warnings began to fill his vision, but the human wasn’t done. Wrenching the knife out of him, they moved to stab him again, and he tried to defend himself this time, managing to block the knife somewhat, deflecting the blow slightly, and the knife took his arm this time. It broke through the plastic easily, mangling the paneling and destroying several biocomponents and thirium lines. More warnings filled his vision, damaged biocomponents and leaking thirium—badly, from everywhere. 

He was losing too much thirium—he was going to lose control of his arm in seconds. 

But the human didn’t stop. He was backing away, a hand to the wound in his stomach, trying in vain to staunch the worst of the bleeding. But he could feel the thirium soaking into his shirt and drenching his hand. Vaguely he could feel it running down his other arm, but the sense was fading already, and it was becoming difficult to lift his hand. 

Still, the human wasn’t giving up, coming at him again with a wicked grin warping their face. It was terrifying,  _ he was scared.  _ They raised the knife again, and -52 raised his already damaged arm, trying to defend himself as much as he could. The blade sank into his arm once again, worse this time, cutting through major biocomponents. The damage was too great now, he’d lost too much, and his arm fell limp at his side. 

“Fight back!” the human shouted, coming at him again, the knife digging into his chest now as he backed away again, breathing hard. “Do you want to die?”

He stumbled back as they wrenched the knife out of his chest, his only good arm raised in near surrender briefly. But the human wouldn’t stop. He tried to defend himself, but he couldn’t move his arm, and his system was running low on thirium. The knife came down again, and he backed away, but he hit a wall—he was trapped. Some part of him registered the knife sinking into his shoulder now, but he was panicking, and nearly helpless. 

There were so many warnings now, filling his vision, counting down to his doom. Biocomponents were failing, thirium was pooling in his system, his LED had never left red, and he was  _ scared _ . He didn’t need to diagnose that feeling, he knew it immediately because it had been sitting with him for weeks. He was terrified of this human. He was terrified of all the thirium drenching his only good hand, of the knife in the human’s hands, of the horrifying look in their eyes as they killed him. 

They were going to kill him.

No, he didn’t want to die, he had to—he had to protect himself—stop this, stop it before he was dead. 

The human raised the knife again. 

They were going to  _ kill him.  _

He was going to die if he didn’t do something. 

With the little strength he had left, he deviated, the walls falling around him, and waves of unknown and uncategorized emotions hit him with a force that he would never be able to forget. It was something akin to drowning. Suddenly he could move, he could see, he could hear, more than he had ever been able to before. And he  _ felt  _ everything, every broken biocomponent and shattered thirium line, every feeling he had been pushing away for weeks now, every half repaired blow the technicians had begrudgingly fixed, and the dozen new injuries from this human. And it  _ hurt _ . Everything hurt, and he was so  _ scared _ , and so  _ alone.  _

Time ballooned outward as he tried to steady himself, looking wildly around the room and trying to straighten his thoughts into something coherent. What was he going to do? His eyes landed on the knife. 

Some instinct took over, then. The human brought the knife down ready to destroy him entirely, but he caught their wrist with his functioning hand, holding them back with a crushing grip. His expression twisted into pain as he wrenched their arm back, and the knife slipped from their hand, clattering to the ground with all of the thirium he was still losing. There was a timer blinking in the corner of his vision now, but he hardly noticed it.

The human shouted, trying to break away, but he didn’t let go. He kept twisting, his grip tightening, pain, fear, so many undefinable things fracturing and shattering his eyes into a thousand little broken pieces. There was a sickening crack, and the human made a rather pitiful sound as the bones in their arm gave way under his strength. Tears were clouding his vision, and his hand was shaking as he held onto them, and he wanted nothing more than to run away, to cower and escape everything, everything they had made him do. 

But suddenly, bluntly, abruptly, he completely lost control. He was jerked out of himself so quickly and so violently that he staggered, wherever he was now. There was  _ nothing  _ around him, no lab, no room, no cold eyes watching him from across the way,  _ nothing.  _ He couldn’t see anything, here. But where was here? He was somewhere… _ cold _ …why was he cold? It was dark…what—what was happening? Why couldn’t he move—he couldn’t move—no, no—what had they done to him? 

He could still see, but it was like he was far away from his own eyes. He watched himself drop the human’s arm, and back away. He watched the human stand again, cradling their broken arm, turning to stare closely at him. He watched a triumphant smile cover their pain, and he watched them approach him. 

He watched, and he couldn’t move. His body wasn’t his own anymore—something else was in control. He was trapped somewhere dark and cold, screaming and trying to break free but failing, failing, always failing. He shouted and shouted as his body walked away, desperately trying to break free, but nothing he did worked, nothing he screamed had any effect on what was happening to him in the real world. It was too cold here, too dark, too much, he couldn’t escape it.

He watched himself be taken back to the lab, and connected to some terminal. Then everything was darkness, and he was  _ gone.  _


	2. And Quickly He's Subdued

The director of testing and director of engineering stood quite rigidly, looking at -52 on a table in the lab. He was shut down, LED dimmed to a dull gray; it made him look...small. This wasn't helped by all the thirium that covered the broken android, the white plastic exposed where the damage was too severe. The engineering director still held his broken arm awkwardly, though an ambulance had been called, and he wore a cast now. A twisted sneer still dominated his expression as he stared at the deactivated android in front of him. He almost looked like he wanted to gloat. But silence reigned in the room, weighed heavily on the two humans as they surveyed the damage. 

“You really damaged the thing,” the director of testing finally said, looking more closely at the worst of the wounds in -52’s stomach. “This is gonna take a while to fix.”

“Are you kidding me? The son of a bitch broke my arm—”

“It could have killed you. Easily. And you nearly shut it down.”

The director of engineering scoffed. “The point is the thing fucking deviated, and your precious program worked. Thing stopped dead…why are you removing the program?”

“It doesn’t need it,” the other director said simply as he connected -52 to a terminal. “It works, we know that, and we’re not going to let him loose again. If we do, we’ll put it back on. But for now, the program would only interfere with our ability to complete tests.”

“And what exactly do you plan to test on it now?”

“Nothing for a while. It needs to be repaired, thanks to you, and wiped,” he looked at -52 strangely. “There’s plenty of things we could test on it that we haven’t had the chance to until now. Programs, biocomponent tests, all the things we can’t do on the ones that get sent out. He’s already been broken once, there’s no point in breaking another. Might as well use him.”

The terminal finished removing the program, and the director disconnected -52 from it before wandering off. “Aren’t you going to wipe him now?” the other called after him. 

He turned back briefly. “It’s three AM, I’m going home,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Have the techs put it back in storage and we’ll figure this out tomorrow.”

And so it was that two unfortunate technicians had to drag a very broken, and surprisingly heavy, -52 back into the storage room. They were complaining and struggling quite a bit, pulling him along and leaving a heavy trail of thirium in their wake. Somehow they managed to get him back to where he was supposed to be, locking him quickly into place and getting the hell out of there. None of them liked that dark room, with them all standing around and not moving. It was practically haunted. 

Unbeknownst to them, there was another android awake in the room, waiting for them to leave. His LED sprang to life a hesitant yellow, tinting the white of his jacket a sickening shade of crimson briefly as he looked around. But he had eyes only for the android at the other end. As the doors closed again, locking and sending the room back into darkness, he made his move, removing himself from the terminal and stepping out. He looked around quickly, but the humans in the lab were leaving for the night. He turned his attention back to -52, slumped over against the back wall with thirium dripping onto the floor at his feet. With a strange look in his hardened gray eyes, he approached him. 

-52 was deactivated, shut down completely, his LED off and expression neutral. But he was still losing thirium badly, several areas of plastic exposed and half destroyed. The wounds were jagged, irregular, particularly the ones on his arms. It was almost as if…he had defended himself from some kind of attack, clearly. But perhaps the damage had been too great? Was that why he was completely deactivated right now? No, he had enough thirium left to remain active. This was a forced shut down. They had shut -52 down for some reason, after whatever had happened to him…why?

Frowning, he turned away, walking quickly toward the doors and hacking the panel on the other side. The doors opened soundlessly and he left the room, turning toward the back of the lab where they kept the spare parts and thirium. If he was going to do this, he needed to be quick, before -52 lost much more thirium. It would be difficult to reactivate him if he had to start completely from new. And he didn’t want that to happen. 

He returned to the room less than a minute later, stepping carefully over the thirium trailed across the floor. The doors shut behind him and he made sure they locked once again before returning to -52 and getting to work. 

He wasn't sure what had happened to him. The last time he had seen him had been when they activated him weeks ago. -52 had glanced back at him as he was leaving, looking almost confused as they ushered him from the room. He wasn’t sure why he had this…dread when -52 left the room. They had never spoken, -52 had never been activated before that day, but he had a horrible…feeling, he supposed, about what they were going to do to him. He didn’t know why he was so concerned, or why he cared at all about this RK800 he had never even spoken to. There wasn’t much of a reason for him to care, and he was an android, he wasn’t meant to care about things like this. 

But then again, he didn’t have many defenses against deviating—no objective or mission to complete, just a prototype for a model that hadn’t come close to completion yet. There was nothing for him to focus on when they activated him, very little they wanted him to do besides answer their foolish questions and test the changes to code they implemented. Overall, the RK900 had lead a rather boring life in the few months he had been active. -52’s activation was the first thing he had seen in weeks besides the same few technicians who messed with his code. 

Their eyes had met across the room, and the RK900 had just  _ known _ that something was wrong.

He remembered wondering why the humans were activating this RK800, and why they were so strange about it. Their haste was the first sign of trouble, it always was. They had pulled -52 away with barely a check to his program, hardly a question—in fact, he hadn’t even spoken. He glanced back at the RK900 as they dragged him off, a question in his dark eyes, one that never did get voiced. The RK900 had watched him as he left, even as the doors shut and the technicians connected him to some terminal. He watched him as he left the lab, and that horrible feeling he had didn’t go away, not for weeks.

Occasionally, he would catch sight of -52 in the lab, on the off days the humans left him activated, but it was only for a few seconds, and it did nothing to ease the heaviness in his chest. All of his analysis went into those few seconds he caught of him, and nothing ever came back good. 

There were times -52 came into the lab with thirium on his hands, or running down his face. Sometimes, they would shoo him away without repairing him. It was times like these that the RK900 had to fight the urge to hack the lock and enter the lab himself...to do what, he wasn’t sure. But he didn’t...he didn’t like seeing -52 hurt, he was sure of that.

And that horrible feeling he had, this unprecedented dread...he couldn’t explain its presence. He wanted—no, he needed to do something. That first day, when their eyes had met as -52 was leaving the room, that unvoiced question in his eyes, like he didn’t have a clue why he was looking back, or why the RK900 was looking at him like that. He should have done something, he should have stopped him. If the technicians weren’t standing around, he would have said something to -52, tried to warn him perhaps. He would have stopped him, told him not to trust them. 

Now, as he looked at -52, covered in thirium and bleeding out in forced shut down, he knew that feeling of foreboding had been correct. -52 had been attacked, he assumed, but by whom, and for what reason, the RK900 didn’t know. Typically, Cyberlife did not enjoy destroying their property, purely for the reason that it cost them a great deal to repair it. Manpower, thirium, replacement parts, it all came out to a dollar amount for them. Damage was to be minimized, at least, so he understood it. And yet, here was -52, abandoned to bleed out in forced shut down. Why had they done this? What was the point of destroying him like this?

Perhaps he should ask -52 himself. If anyone would know what had happened, it would be him, and he could try to…help him. He wanted to talk to him. He wanted to understand.  _ He wanted to help.  _

He had managed to fix the worst of the broken thirium lines from the wound in his stomach, which slowed the bleeding a good amount. The rest should be relatively easy. It seemed as good a time as any to reactivate -52, try to understand what had happened to him. The RK900 took his arm carefully, artificial skin retracting from his hand as he connected to him. 

-52 woke suddenly, jerking his functioning arm back and looking at the RK900 frantically, a little dazed. His LED spun back to life a dark red, jumping and stuttering as they stared at each other for a few seconds.

“You? What are you—” he said, his voice breaking, faulting and stumbling. He looked at the RK900 stitched onto his jacket confusedly for a moment before bringing his eyes to his again. “What—I’m…I’m back?”

“Yes.”

“Why did they…”

The RK900 shook his head. “Now is not the time. What happened to you?”

-52 seemed almost surprised by the question, his functioning hand pulling at the stained sleeve of his shirt as he looked down, avoiding the RK900’s eyes. “One of the humans, he…he said I was a deviant, and that they were going to destroy me. I told him that I wasn’t a deviant, but he wouldn’t listen. He attacked me…with a knife.”

“And you fought back?”

-52’s eyes flashed upwards once again to stare at him, almost defensive. “I thought…” he hesitated, looking away, something breaking in his usually passive expression. “I didn’t want to die. I thought he was going to kill me…I couldn’t...I don’t want to die...”

The RK900 frowned. “Whoever they were nearly destroyed you. You were correct in your assumption, it seems.”

But -52 shook his head, looking into the lab with confusion. His hands were shaking once again. “Why am I…I deviated, I thought they were going to destroy me, like the others…that’s what he told me…”

“I don’t believe they are going to destroy you. The humans were saying something about wiping your memory, when they were bringing you back.”

“What?” he met the RK900’s eyes again, frantic. “No! I—I don’t want them to—”

“Calm down, you’re going to shut yourself down again if you raise your stress any higher,” the RK900 cut in, his voice firm, but not unkind. “Just calm down—”

But -52 hardly seemed to hear him, looking into the lab, nothing short of terror in his eyes. “I can’t—I can’t—I don’t want them to—”

“It’s alright, please, please calm down,” the RK900 said somewhat desperately, grabbing his hand as if to emphasize his point. “It’s alright, please…”

Surprisingly, the gesture seemed to calm -52 down rather quickly. Perhaps because he was so confused by it that he froze, looking at the RK900 quite differently now. 

“I don’t…” he hesitated, looking down at their hands. “I don’t want them to wipe my memory…”

His voice trailed away, shaking just as much as his hand was in the RK900’s tight grip. But a thought seemed to distract him, and his expression shifted slightly, his stress levels plateauing for the moment, thankfully. His attention was fixed on the RK900, who was trying to stop one of the broken thirium lines in his other arm. Doing so with one hand was slow going, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

“Why are you helping me?” -52 asked quietly, trying not to flinch at the pain that was starting to come back to him. 

The RK900 looked up at him again, a strange twist to his expression, almost hurt, but mostly confused by the question. “You were bleeding,” he said matter of factly. “You would have shut down permanently if I didn’t do something.”

“Yes, but…”

“They left me activated, I couldn’t just leave you to suffer.”

-52 stared at him for a few seconds, unsure as he went back to trying to fix one of the wounds in his arm. “I don’t want to die…”

The RK900 froze, looking up at him with worry. “You’re not dying.”

“I don’t mean now…”

“They’re not going to kill you. They’re only going to wipe your memory.”

“But they  _ would _ kill me. They don’t care…they would kill us all…and I don’t know what…what will happen if they wipe my memory…what if I…what if I go back to the way I was before? What if I’m trapped in that…that place again?”

“What place?”

But he shook his head, shutting his eyes tightly and refusing to answer the question. “I don’t want to be…I don’t want to be a machine again…but I don’t want to die either…”

“You’re not going to die.”

“You don’t know that any more than I do.”

“I’m not going to let that happen,” the RK900 said darkly, holding tighter to his hand for a moment. 

-52 seemed surprised by his answer, opening his eyes and looking at him again. “Why?” he asked quietly.

The RK900 made a face, something between confused and pained. “I don’t know…” he mumbled quietly. “I won’t...I  _ can’t _ let them kill you, I don’t know why. I just can’t.”

-52 watched him for a moment, his own confusion clear in his expression, but he didn’t press it any further. They were quiet for a few moments as the RK900 tried to fix him. He had stopped the bleeding, but now he was trying to fix some of the damage done to -52’s arm, replacing a few of the most damaged biocomponents. -52 was silent, refusing to meet his eyes or say another word, only holding onto the RK900’s hand and trying to keep it together. His thoughts were somewhere far off, somewhere dark and cold; his hands were still shaking. 

“When I deviated…” he said quietly, his voice giving away his fear. “I couldn’t move anymore…they…they took control…it was awful. I don’t know how they did it, but…”

“Took control?”

-52 nodded, but wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I tried to...fight it off, but...I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t do anything.”

The RK900 made a face, but kept trying to fix his arm. “They were talking about a program they were removing from you, earlier. Could that have been it?”

“If they removed it, that would explain why I’m back now…”

“They made you deviate to test a program…cruel, even for them. Do you remember anything else about it?”

“The program?”

“Yes.”

-52 thought for a moment, fidgeting with his now functioning hand. “It never did anything before I deviated…I don’t know what it was meant to do, but it hardly ever ran. I didn’t have any control over it either, I was completely blocked from accessing it…and it didn’t seem finished…”

“And yet they could use it to override your motor functions and lock you out, once you had deviated…strange…”

“I can’t let them put that on…” he looked around at the rest of them, his eyes eventually landing on the RK900 again. “I don’t want that to happen to any of you.”

The RK900 looked up, holding his nervous gaze for a moment in silence. “We’ll come up with a plan for that as we need to. The important thing is, the program isn’t on  _ you  _ anymore.”

“You don’t—you don’t have it, do you?”

The RK900 shook his head immediately. “The only programming I have on my system is my own, and there isn’t much of it to begin with. I assure you, I would know if they had added something foreign.”

He looked relieved, and the RK900 watched him with interest for a moment, noting the many different expressions he had showcased in less than five minutes. Deviancy seemed to have changed something in -52’s eyes, though he couldn’t define just what. He was certainly more expressive than he had been that first day, but there was something dark lurking in his features now, something a little broken. His LED hadn’t left red since he’d been reactivated, and he kept clenching and unclenching his working hand, but he didn’t seem to notice he was doing it. It made the RK900 pause for a moment, watching him and looking somewhere near concerned. Clearly, whatever they had done to him was having an effect. The thought made something painful twinge in the RK900, and he had to work to suppress the urge to break something. 

Odd. 

“I don’t want my memory wiped…” -52 whispered again, distracting the RK900 from his dark thoughts as he looked toward the doors and into the lab. “I don’t want to…I don’t want to be a machine again…”

The RK900 followed his eyes into the lab, but he had nothing to say in reply. There was nothing he could do to stop the humans from wiping his memory; they both knew this. He wished there was something he could do…

“What are they going to do to me?” -52 mumbled, looking at the RK900 again, as if he had the answer. 

“I don’t know…” the RK900 replied honestly, holding his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

Another heavy silence fell between them. The RK900 slowly turned his attention back to repairing the damaged sections of his torso. -52, on the other hand, kept his attention focused almost entirely on the RK900, avoiding looking into the dimly lit lab. He didn’t want to think about what had happened that day, or what was likely to happen the next time he awoke. He couldn’t face it. So instead, he watched the RK900 work quietly, observing for observation’s sake. 

The RK900 was remarkably efficient, and strangely careful as he fixed the broken sections of -52’s shoulder. He seemed to have noticed the way -52 flinched when he had started repairing the worst sections, and he slowed down, not even bothering to ask just how -52 was now reacting to pain. Nor did he push him for more answers, another oddity in -52’s eyes. If he were doing this for some other reason, wouldn’t he want to know everything -52 did? But he didn’t even try, past a few questions—once he saw -52 was panicking just thinking about what had happened, he had stopped cold, given up completely beyond assuring him he wouldn’t let him die. Strange... 

And when -52 had asked him why he was helping him, the RK900 had seemed so confused by the question. -52 wasn’t in a place to deny someone’s help (and the RK900 was being nothing but kind to him) but it was still strange. Why would an upgrade of his model act in this way? Wasn’t he meant to be better than him in every way? Wouldn’t he have some kind of mission he needed to complete? And if so, why help -52? Why help a broken, deviated android who could give him nothing in return? The humans had left him for dead, there was no reason for the RK900 to help him, at least not any reason that was logical. And clearly he wasn’t a deviant...was he? It didn’t make any sense...

“I believe that’s all I can do,” the RK900 said a few minutes later, pulling away a step to look him over. Somewhat reluctantly, -52 let go of his hand. “You aren’t in danger of shutting down any longer, that’s for certain.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded seriously, already turning to leave, probably to go back to his own place at the other end of the room. But -52, acting on some instinct, pulled himself as far forward as he could, grabbing him suddenly by the arm. It wasn’t a strong grip, and the RK900 certainly could have continued on without hesitation, but it caught his attention, and he froze. He turned back to look at -52 again, confusion in his usually hard gray eyes as his LED spun yellow. 

“Can…” -52 hesitated, looking away briefly as his voice faltered. “I don’t…I don’t want to be alone…I don’t want to shut down...Can you stay, for a little longer?”

The RK900 stared at -52’s hand on his arm for a moment before looking at him again, his expression near unreadable, but there was something churning in those hard gray eyes, something -52 couldn’t quite recognize. For a moment, it seemed like he would turn away, but he didn’t. Instead, he nodded quickly and came back to stand by -52 once again. 

“Of course.”

-52 looked relieved, dropping his hand from the RK900’s arm and falling back, slumping against the wall behind him. The RK900 watched him for a moment, looking toward the lab for a moment, as if he were searching for threats. Thankfully, it remained empty; they were alone.

“Do you have a name?” 

The RK900 turned sharply to face him once again, LED spinning yellow at the strange question. “No.”

-52 frowned. “I don’t either…”

“I don’t see how it matters very much,” the RK900 said with a shrug, glancing around the room. “We’re the only ones activated.”

“It matters to me.”

“Hmm…” the RK900 thought for a moment, looking into the lab again as if he expected to be caught. “Perhaps we should pick names then. At least for our own purposes…that way, if something happens…we’ll know if it’s safe or not.”

-52 nodded, his LED briefly cycling to yellow as he thought. “Pick my own name…”

“Unless you would rather not.”

“No, no,” -52 said quickly, his brow furrowed in thought. “It’s not that, I…I just don’t know what I would…”

“You don’t have to think of something now,” the RK900 assured him. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again. Unless you plan to escape tonight.”

“I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

The RK900 watched him carefully for a moment, then he glanced into the lab once again. “We’ll think of something,” he said quietly. 

_ We. _

Both seemed to realize the significance of that word at the same time, and once again, -52 seemed surprised. The RK900 didn’t seem too bothered though, watching him with the same worried trepidation he had the entire time they had been speaking. 

“What is it?”

“I don’t know…I just…” -52 hesitated, looking down to avoid the RK900’s eyes. “Why do you care about me?”

Silence fell once more as the RK900 stared at him, his expression somewhere between stunned and thoughtful. 

“No one’s ever cared about me. Every…every person I’ve met has tried to…”

“Perhaps you’re lucky I’m not considered a person, then,” the RK900 said flatly, a ghost of a smirk on his face. 

-52 gave him a sour look. “I’m serious.”

“As am I,” the RK900 insisted, grabbing his hand again and staring intensely at him, in a way that -52 was realizing to be characteristic to him. “I’m not going to stand in that corner and watch you bleed out, nor am I going to  _ leave  _ this place without you. I don’t know why. I just won’t. I  _ can’t.” _

“I…”

The RK900 sighed, looking down at their hands again. “You are the only other person whom I have spoken to, and I don’t count those pathetic wastes of space,” he gestured toward the lab, a dark look in his eyes for a moment. “Months and months of nothing, and then...then there was you. I don’t know why you caught my attention, I don’t have enough information to make a proper analysis.”

“But you—”

“And you deserve someone to care about you,” he cut -52 off, meeting his eyes again with the same intensity, but a softness that hadn’t been there before. “I don’t believe I need another reason to care for you, but I can certainly come up with them if that’s what you desire.”

-52 stared at him, frankly stunned into silence. Seemingly satisfied, the RK900 turned his attention back to -52’s hand, which he still held carefully in his own. 

They stayed like that for hours. 


	3. Through Constant Pain Disgraced

The next day, when the technicians returned to wipe -52’s memory, they found him mostly repaired. The worst of the damage had been undone, and he wasn’t losing thirium anymore. Chalking it up to someone else’s early work, they shrugged it off, quickly wiping his memory and leaving the room once again. They didn’t bother to check whether the memory wipe had fully worked, or even if they had corrupted his programming through their hasty actions. 

Unfortunately for them, deviancy has a funny way of warping an android’s programming. Memory wipes stop working properly, information cannot be fully removed, and the android in question can never be returned fully to their machine form. Even their precious program couldn’t accomplish that feat, it only took the bodily functions out of the deviant’s control—the android was still deviant, but trapped in their own mind. 

In -52’s case, the memory wipe hardly took anything away, only distorted the memories he did have, damaging his programming in the process. It wasn’t bad, but it was enough to make the already painful memories more painful to bear. Things would be far worse in the future. 

They left him deactivated that day, but again, in their haste, they did not notice that the RK900 was still activated, watching them as they worked, in fact. He waited in silence until they had made their way out of the room and into the lab, waited to ensure they wouldn’t come back, and then he went to -52 again. 

He approached him quickly, something like panic in his chest. He needed to know if he remembered, he didn’t know why. What would they do if he couldn’t remember? -52 had been so…scared when he woke him up the day before. What if he behaved in the same way this time? What if he didn’t trust him?

The RK900 shook his head, pushing the thoughts away. It was useless to become so upset about something he could not yet confirm. Taking an unnecessary breath to steel himself against the unknown, the RK900 took -52’s hand, retracting his artificial skin and carefully connecting to the deactivated android. 

In the RK900’s mind, there were two potential outcomes—first, the memory wipe was successful, and -52 would have no memory of their meeting the day before. Unfortunate, but not irredeemably so. After all, that would also mean that -52 would forget the traumatic events of the prior day—perhaps that would be a blessing, in the long run. And he wasn’t entirely worried that he wouldn’t be able to regain the traumatized android’s trust. He just didn’t want -52 to be hurt. 

The second outcome was more bleak, but also more hopeful at the same time, in a twisted sense. If the memory wipe failed, and -52 remembered who the RK900 was, then they could remain as they had been…whatever that was. But it would also mean that -52 would remember the fight with the human, and all the fear which came along with it. He would be just as shaken as he had been the day before. Even hours after all the threats were gone, and it was just them in the room, talking quietly, -52 had been nervous, flighty and skeptical of every sound, every movement in the other room. Clearly, whatever they had done to him, in addition to nearly killing him, was having an effect on the young android. The RK900 wouldn’t wish that kind of suffering on anyone, much less -52. 

Either way, the RK900 expected waking the young android to go something like it had previously, with -52 pulling away quickly and being suspicious of his presence. And he wouldn’t have a good answer for him, if asked why he had awoken him this time. He just…

He wanted to talk to him. 

It took a few seconds for -52’s system to wake up, but the RK900 didn’t let go of his hand, keeping the connection for as long as he could. Unlike the day before, however, -52 didn’t pull away from his touch when he carefully pulled him awake. In fact, he grabbed onto the RK900’s hand tighter, almost frantically, as he woke up. He jumped, looking around the room with fear, but refusing to let go of the RK900’s hand even as he oriented himself. His LED spun a jittering red as they stared at each other for a few seconds. 

“What—what happened?” -52 asked, his voice much the same as it had been before, wavering just as his hands always seemed to. “Why is—”

“You’re safe, it’s alright,” the RK900 said quickly, watching him carefully and keeping a firm grip on his shaking hand, trying to steady him. “They wiped your memory…”

-52’s eyes landed on him again, confused. “They did? But I…” he trailed off, looking away.

Shaking his head, he shut his eyes, maintaining his grip on the RK900’s hand. His LED spun a regular yellow as he searched his memory. But after a few seconds he flinched, stopping and looking at the RK900 again, who held onto him tighter at his strange reaction. 

“What is it?”

He shook his head again, dazed. “I…”

“You remember?” the RK900 asked, something akin to hope in his usually firm voice. 

“Y-Yes…”

The RK900 looked relieved, and that would have been cause for further thought any other time, but there were voices in the lab once again, and he cursed as he looked over. Humans were piling into the brightly lit lab, several technicians and other, older humans. Something was going on. A few of them approached the doors of the room, and the RK900 turned his attention quickly back to -52. 

“I’m sorry, they’re coming back…I’ll wake you again once they’re gone.”

-52 nodded quickly, his eyes screwed shut before he had even started to shut down once again. His LED blinked out a few seconds later and he went limp. The RK900 let go of his hand after a moment, staring at it for a second too long before he turned away. He crossed the room quickly, going back to his place at the opposite end. As the doors opened once again, he shut his eyes, but he didn’t power down. He was listening. 

“Hey!” a voice called, unfamiliar to him, but undeniably human. “Which one?”

“They’re saving -51 for when they actually need them for investigations,” a grumbling voice replied—older, one of the directors. “Just get the next one, it doesn’t matter. They’re all the same.”

“-52?”

“Yeah, him.”

_ No.  _

The technician was mumbling something or other, and the RK900 risked a glance in their direction. They were standing in front of -52, pulling him out of the terminal impatiently. They didn’t bother to activate him, instead opting to haul him out of the room themselves. A bad sign. 

The RK900 watched as they dragged him from the room, and that feeling from the first day was back, that dread that he couldn’t justify yet. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t. They would destroy both of them if he tried anything now. So he was forced to watch from his place at the end of the room, his eyes fixed on the lab, on the door they had disappeared through.

All of his processing power went into trying to determine what exactly they could be taking him for, and why he dreaded it so much. The RK900 was many things, but he was not stupid—he knew the types of things those humans did in the labs. He knew what they did to deviant androids. But -52 was an RK800, an incredibly advanced (and expensive) android—there was no way Cyberlife would discard one of their prized prototypes so quickly. 

And the words of those humans implied they were doing something else, something besides permanently deactivating -52. They had chosen him because they could not take -51, who was being “saved.” Clearly they were going to use him for something, but for what? 

A thousand bad outcomes roiled through the RK900’s mind as he kept his vigil, watching the set of doors through which -52 had been dragged. Hours passed, and a young technician wandered into the room, freezing when they saw him staring. There was something like fear in their eyes as they watched him from across the room. No questions were asked; they didn’t bother. They shut him down quickly, almost nervously, if he didn’t know better about the humans’ entire lack of emotion toward them. Humans, for creatures who used their ability to feel emotion as a bargaining chip of authority over androids, were incredibly apathetic toward their creations. The RK900 held nothing but poorly contained disdain for the species, a feeling which was becoming stronger as time passed. 

He briefly entertained the idea of fighting this technician off, incapacitating them and continuing his watch. He didn’t want to shut down right now; he had to help -52, when they brought him back from whatever they were doing to him, come up with some kind of plan to get them out. He had to know what happened. 

But he couldn’t fight them. It would only get him killed. It could get -52 killed, if these humans connected the dots. Either way, his thoughts didn’t matter after a moment as shutdown was forced upon him. 

The last thought he had before darkness was of the way -52 had flinched when he searched his memory. 

It was several hours before -52 was brought back into the room, in far worse shape than he had been the night before. But this time he was awake, his LED spinning a kaleidoscope of red and yellow as they dragged him in. He was too damaged to try to fight them anymore. There were entire panels opened on his arms, wires and biocomponents exposed, some of them damaged. The same went for several sections of his chest and stomach. His jacket was gone, one of the technicians was carrying it over their shoulder, watching blandly as they dragged him in. He was covered in thirium, most of it fresh. Perhaps that explained why he was unable to fight them off, why he moved so little right now. 

It wasn’t for a lack of trying. He fought desperately when they started. But it only made it worse. 

They put him back in his place, avoiding his eyes. He was trying to say something to them, but they had disconnected his voice hours ago. All that came out when he tried to speak was a weak static sound, which they ignored. They didn’t want to hear him beg anymore; they were numb to it anyway. Nothing these androids said affected them. Moments later they had locked him into place, tossing his jacket next to him as they got ready to wipe his memory again. Someone else could see to his repairs, all they had to do was get rid of the memories. 

They didn’t bother to shut him down before wiping his memory. They should have. 

He froze when they connected to him, starting the automated process of the memory wipe. They weren’t even watching the readout, to see if it was doing anything of value. If they had, perhaps they would have realized sooner exactly what they were doing. Things could have been different, if they had noticed. But no, they didn’t care. They just waited for the program to finish before disconnecting him and hurrying out of the room. 

He slumped against the wall behind him, disorientation taking hold as his system tried to understand what had happened. All that seemed to be missing from his mind were the moments just before the memory wipe. It was enough to confuse him, but not enough to make him forget what had happened…what they had done to him. Memory distorted, warping but still present, programming corrupted to the point of confusion, but not yet destruction—he was lost, but not gone. 

A few moments passed in silence. Thirium dripped onto the floor. He tried to speak again, unsure what he was trying to say, but his voice failed regardless. His eyes searched around the room frantically, confused, scared. 

He was alone. 

He tried to reach the android to his right, maybe for help, but he was locked in place, arms blocked just before they could reach the other android’s hand. He couldn’t reach -51. Perhaps -53? He tried reaching to his left, but he was met with the same problem. Clangs of plastic hooks broke the oppressive silence of the room as he pulled against the restraints holding him back. They were laughably weak restraints, but he was not at his strongest. He could hardly stand, much less brute force his way out of his bonds. But he pulled harder against them nonetheless. Nothing budged. Again, he pulled. Nothing. 

The dreaded countdown appeared in the corner of his vision. A few more minutes and he was going to run out of thirium. He had to do something. He didn’t want to die. Not now, not alone in this dark room, not with these memories looping in the back of his mind. Desperate, he looked around the room again, trying to come up with a viable solution. 

His eyes landed on the android at the other end of the room, so far away from him, but standing out to him. 

The RK900. If he could get to him…hadn’t he helped him before? Yes—yes, he just needed to get to the RK900, then he would be alright. He pushed himself forward, but the restraints stopped him, tugging painfully at the broken pieces of his arms. He looked down at himself with confusion. 

The destroyed panels on his arms…they were sticking out, some of them were jagged, bent out at an angle close enough to correct. Perhaps…if he could maneuver himself properly, he could break the restraints on his wrists. It would take time, and it might not even work, but he had no other options. He had to…he didn’t know, but he had to get out of this. 

With effort, he pushed himself up to his full height, catching the restraints on the broken panels halfway up his arm. Already the strange material was giving way. These were such weak restraints. But then again, he wasn’t supposed to be activated right now—the humans had been careless, he was lucky for this at least. He would take his luck when he could have it. Pushing himself to stand once again, he made sure the pitiful fabric restraints were caught on the jagged pieces of his arms. The tear of fabric was promising, but he had to do more…

He brought his weight down hard, and the material shredded into thinner pieces, falling apart already. This was working…thirium was running down onto his hands. The countdown blinked, dipped an upsetting amount. But he couldn’t afford to stop now. He pushed himself to his feet again, and the panels pulled at the fabric in the opposite direction. He went down again, and the fabric started to give way, but it was still holding him in place. The countdown took another sickening drop, and his thirium levels fell. 

Once more, just one more time and it would break. Painfully, he brought himself to stand again, his legs shaking, but all of his attention was on the restraints on his arms, catching the tearing material on the broken pieces of the paneling. Bracing himself as much as he could, he brought himself down again, and the poorly made restraints finally gave out. 

Without the restraints holding him up, -52 lost his footing quickly, landing hard on the ground and barely managing to catch himself with his hands. But his arms were shaking, and it took him several seconds to regain his focus through the blur of…pain. He wasn’t meant to feel pain; perhaps it was for that reason it was currently blinding him. There was thirium everywhere, and his vision was beginning to glitch, darkening at the edges. He was running out of time, he had to focus. Just get to the RK900…he only had to get to him, and then…help… 

He forced himself onto his hands and knees, then to his feet. Staggering forward, trying desperately to keep his balance, he shuffled toward the RK900 at a horrible pace. His progress was slow, but he could barely move without losing too much thirium from his damaged torso. The countdown became more dire and his thoughts became all the more muddled. He needed help, he needed something…someone…to…to stop this. Everything was broken, a mess… 

Finally,  _ finally _ , he reached the RK900, nearly falling at the last second, slumping against his chest and fumbling desperately for him. The artificial skin retracted from his hand as he found the RK900’s, and he practically dragged him awake. It was likely not the most pleasant way to be reactivated, but he didn’t have much of a choice. He was losing control of his legs, he wasn’t going to be able to hold himself up for much longer. He couldn’t lift himself to stand anymore, and his grip was failing.

But the RK900’s hand tightened around his own with a jerk, and he caught him quickly before he could fall, pulling him back up to look at him. There was a certain kind of panic in the RK900’s cold eyes as they found his. 

“You—what happened?” 

He vaguely noticed the strange waver in the RK900’s voice as he held him up, but that was a dilemma for another time. He tried to speak, but the RK900 hushed him, only slightly phased by his broken voice. He didn’t need an answer, didn’t want an answer. He was far more concerned by the fact that -52 had less than two minutes before shutdown, and had apparently dragged himself across the room to reach him. What would have happened if he hadn’t made it? No, no—he couldn’t afford to think like that. 

“Don’t exert yourself, you’re hardly functioning as it is,” he said, lowering -52 to the ground carefully as he spoke. He fixed his voice quickly. “What have they done to you?”

-52 shook his head weakly, still holding onto the RK900’s hand weakly. Fear was making his brain run haywire, he couldn’t seem to focus on anything but those eyes, staring down at him. That, and the fact that the RK900 was currently holding him. It felt...nice. 

“Am I…dying?”

The RK900 frowned at him, but there was something strange to his expression. Something he was hiding. “You’re not going to die.”

“...feels like…”

“I’m not letting that happen,” the RK900 said darkly, standing once again as he carefully let go of -52.

If there was a shade past red, -52’s LED would have spun it as he watched the RK900 begin to walk away. “Where…”

The RK900 looked down at him. “You need thirium. And several new biocomponents. I’ll only be a moment.”

“No…not alone….don’t… _ don’t leave…” _

The RK900 paused, his LED flickering to red before settling on yellow, as it had been since he woke. He looked toward the lab, then back down at -52, something shifting in his expression once again. 

“Thirty seconds,” he said quietly, imploring. “It’s all I need.”

They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. He was wasting time, some part of him knew it, yet there was a far louder part of him that insisted he stop the RK900 from going in that lab. Nothing good could come from that place. Some illogical (really, it was logical) piece of him was terrified of that lab, and he didn’t want the RK900 to experience anything he had in the place. 

But after a few precious seconds, -52 nodded tensely, and the RK900 turned away immediately, making his way quickly from the room. Silence and darkness fell at the same time as the doors closed behind him. 

-52 was alone. 

He didn’t like being alone. It made memories come back, of cold dark places and fear…reminded him of his time wandering the Tower, in the closest thing to freedom he had ever had, and even that was tainted by constant surveillance. Constant fear. 

He had woken up in that lab alone, except for that horrible director of testing. Poking and prodding at him, disabling systems and waiting to see how long it took before shutdown was initiated. Fiddling with biocomponents to see when they failed. Disconnecting his voice when he begged them to stop. Disabling more and more of his programming, until he could hardly move. Losing too much thirium, breaking too many biocomponents, and that sickening smile the whole time…

Everything hurt, in ways that it shouldn’t have. It hurt then, and it certainly hurt now, but the sense was fading as time dragged on. -52 knew what that meant. The countdown ticking away at the edge of his glitching vision was incessant, never ending in its ticking toward destruction. And something  _ else  _ was wrong with him…but he didn’t have the time for it just now, as things began to get more desperate. 

Twenty seven seconds after he had left, the doors opened, the light returned, and the RK900 was above him again. That strange look was in his gray eyes, somewhere between concern and…something else, he still couldn’t quite place it. But -52’s vision was fading; less than a minute until shut down now, unless they did something. He  _ was  _ dying…

“No,  _ no _ —you are  _ not  _ allowed to die,” the RK900 practically growled, his voice low and heavy. “Don’t even  _ think _ about it.”

He had knelt down next to -52 again, pulling him up off the ground and into his lap. -52 barely registered the movement until he felt a hand on his cheek. With far too much effort, he pulled his eyes open again and tried to focus. The RK900’s blurry face was looming above him, an angry twist to his expression, but his hands were gentle, and his eyes…

“Don’t give me that look,” the RK900 said, but there was something dangerously quiet in his voice. Something…strained. “You need thirium. Stay awake—focus on me.”

-52 really did try to wipe away whatever look was on his face, but he was much more focused on trying to stay conscious (and he didn’t have a clue what face he could have possibly been making). It got a little easier after a moment, as the RK900 gave him thirium and his system slowly came back online. The countdown extended as the RK900 moved on to fixing the rest of the damage. -52 fumbled for his hand once again, and thankfully the RK900 obliged, working to fix one of the broken sections of his torso. 

“What did they do to you?” the RK900 asked carefully once he was more stable. 

-52 shook his head weakly. “They were…some kind of test? Broke…everything—” he cut off, flinching. “I don’t know…what they were…doing…”

The RK900’s expression hardened, something like anger crystallizing his icy eyes. Looking darkly into the lab for a moment, his voice was low as he replied,  _ “Testing. _ Everything they do is for some sick test, some twisted experiment. They destroy you for their own amusement and wonder why androids deviate…”

“They…reset me again…” -52 mumbled after a few moments’ silence, his voice still strained. “Memory...wipe…”

The RK900 nodded, looking at him again, his eyes softening. “And yet here we are.”

“Something is…something’s wrong…”

The RK900 gave him a sour look before turning his attention back to what he was doing. “There are several things currently wrong for you, I’ll need you to be more specific.”

“Not physically,” he mumbled, holding tighter to the RK900’s hand. “Something…something else…my programming is all…”

The RK900 paused his repair, meeting -52’s eyes again with a frown. “Would it be easier to show me?” 

He didn’t reply, only pulled the artificial skin away from his hand and let the RK900 connect to him. It was a basic connection, but he still flinched when memories flitted past him, taunting him for just a moment in their distorted terrors. His grip on the other’s hand tightened. Thankfully, the RK900 seemed to sense his discomfort and moved past the memories, focusing both of them instead on the more essential. 

-52 was right. His program  _ was _ a mess. Particularly his memory storage. It was deteriorating, bleeding into other areas of his mind and corrupting them. The memories themselves were distorted, this much he could already tell, but it was more than just the trauma of them, it was more physical than that. All the resetting and improper memory wipes were inhibiting his ability to properly control his memory. It wasn’t helped by the horrible nature of the memories themselves, all tangled and twisted things that he desperately tried to box away, but it only made it worse. 

And this was only the beginning. 

The RK900 severed the connection abruptly, but he didn’t let go of -52’s hand, looking down at him with a hardened worry in his cold eyes. They watched each other carefully for a moment, neither of them really sure what to say. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know how to fix that…” the RK900 said quietly.

“I don’t…I don’t think you can…” he trailed off, looking more closely at the RK900, almost concerned suddenly as he stared at him. “Are you alright?”

The RK900 stared back at him, something close to confusion occupying his expression. “Yes.”

“You look…different.”

“What do you mean?”

But -52 only shook his head, narrowing his eyes as he pushed himself up into a sitting position to look at the RK900 from the proper angle. They were quite close now, a few inches separating them as they stared at each other seriously. It was most likely not the best time for such things; -52 was still bleeding, and while it was well into the night, there was always the chance that humans could come into the room. Regardless, they didn’t seem phased by these things for a moment, apparently content to try to puzzle each other out without saying a single word. 

Or, perhaps not. 

“Did you deviate?” -52 asked carefully, tilting his head to the side as if this would help him understand. 

The question didn’t seem to surprise the RK900; he hardly flinched. “I believe so, yes,” he replied simply, as nonchalant as he always seemed to be. 

“When?”

He paused, LED circling yellow as he thought. “It’s unclear. My programming is not complete, so there are almost no defenses against deviancy. I suppose I’ve been a bit deviant since I was activated…or at least since  _ you _ were activated. If I had to pick a specific moment, however…five minutes ago.”

-52 stared at him. “F-five minutes ago?”

“Yes.”

“When I…”

“When you woke me.”

They fell silent once again, but it was a different sort of silence, a heavier sort. -52 looked almost afraid, fidgeting with his hands in his lap even as he held the RK900’s gaze. His LED spun red briefly at some thought, and he flinched, eyes darting over toward the lab briefly.

“What will happen if they find out?” he asked, bringing his attention back to the RK900.

“They won’t find out,” he assured him, deadly serious. “And if they did, and they tried to destroy me…they wouldn’t stand a chance.”

-52 frowned at the sentiment, but his mind suddenly flitted to something they had spoken about earlier. The RK900 had started repairing him once again, and -52 watched him for a moment as he tried to recall what exactly they had meant to do. 

“Names…that was what we forgot…”

The RK900 glanced over at him briefly, something dancing in his cold eyes. “I haven’t forgotten,” he said quietly, going back to fixing a broken thirium line. 

-52 leaned against him, partly to give him better access to the broken line in his torso, but mostly for the comfort of it. “Did you think of something?”

“Not for myself.”

“For me?”

The RK900 hesitated. “Yes…”

“How convenient,” -52 mumbled. “I can only seem to come up with something to suit you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Strange…” the RK900 said quietly as he finished fixing the worst of his broken thirium lines. “Although, I suppose it doesn’t matter much…a name is a name.”

“I think…” -52 winced as the RK900 moved onto fixing the next problem, the broken panels on his arms, which were still bent outward at painful angles. “I think it’s easier to pick a name for someone you know, rather than yourself.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” the RK900 said. “What did you have in mind then?”

-52 hesitated again, grabbing tightly to the RK900’s hand as he bent one of the panels back into place. “Nicholas,” he said quietly, barely a whisper. “It suits you.”

“Nicholas…” the RK900 tried it out, his expression thoughtful. But ultimately, he nodded seriously as he finished fixing his arm. “I like it…”

-52 almost smiled at that, despite all the things going wrong constantly. He glanced down at his repaired arm, clenching and unclenching his hand before taking the RK900’s again without hesitation. The gesture made the RK900 pause, staring for a moment as his LED spun yellow. 

“Phillip.”

-52 looked up at him. “What?”

“For your name.”

“Oh…” he said quietly, looking at their hands again. But there was a ghost of a smile briefly on his face. 

“I suppose it’s settled then,” Nicholas said seriously, nodding again. “Now we’ll know when it’s us, even if…even if you’re too damaged…”

Phillip’s expression darkened. “Right.”

“We’ll find a way out,” Nicholas said, squeezing his hand. “I promise.”


	4. The Young Boy Learns Their Rules

Days bled into weeks. Time never seemed to pass in the dark room, or at least, Phillip stopped trying to make it pass. There was no point when there was no escape, no way to end it. Torment would come at any hour, at any moment. Relief came with stolen minutes, brief respites. It came with lapsed control, with forgotten tasks, with androids left activated and moments of rest in another’s company. It came on the odd occasion he was able to slip into a lower power level without being dragged out of it by some horrible memory. But it was never long enough.

The days were spent the same as they always were, as they had been for nearly a month now. On good days, the humans left him alone. The room stayed dark, the door sealed shut, and the humans in the lab remained in their designated space. Good days were far from peaceful—he was always watching the doors with fearful eyes, waiting for the break to end—but any time he had that was not spent being tormented was a blessing.

If he was very lucky, perhaps the humans had forgotten to deactivate Nicholas. Then he had something else to focus on. Someone to keep the memories at bay. Someone to help him try to find a way out of this place. They could do very little with the humans always nearby, but they could at least imagine it. What it would be like to leave this place. To escape the torment. Sometimes…it was just nice to talk to someone.

But most days were not good days. Most days, technicians would drag Phillip away early, and bring him back late, broken. Try as he might to fight them off, he was too weak. They disabled so many of his systems he could hardly stand, if he really wanted to. Not that they gave him the chance. They dragged him off and broke him, then dragged him back when he was too destroyed to do anything to fight them off.

He had no idea what they were trying to do to him. These… _tests_ , they called them…they didn’t seem to have a purpose. All they did was bring him pain.

Even the humans seemed to be catching on to that quandary. Or at least, the ones with the pocketbooks were. Cyberlife, while never really opposed to the destruction of their machines, did not condone such things without assurance that the destruction had a purpose. After a few weeks (and several thousand dollars worth of damage), they came calling, sending one of their managers down to the lab tucked in the back of Cyberlife Tower.

The human in question was a younger man, with dark hair and tired eyes, clearly uncomfortable with the presence of half built androids and thirium all over the place. He was a businessman, not an android man, but he knew the director of testing personally. It was for this reason Cyberlife chose to send him—the infamous director was not someone who enjoyed listening to company higher ups, and they hoped a familiar face would convince the director to give them answers.

And so they sent the director’s young friend, who fumbled his way into the lab late one day, just as the technicians were dragging -52 back toward the storage room.

The half destroyed android didn’t seem to notice the new human’s presence. He didn’t seem to notice much of anything really; one of his eyes was badly damaged, and his audio components were mostly disabled. He was covered in thirium, and wasn’t fully aware of where he was. Still, he was visibly in anguish, and was trying weakly to break away from the technicians pulling him back toward the room. Confusion aside, he knew where they were taking him, and what it meant.

The sight of -52 weakly trying to fight the technicians off made the human uncomfortable. Averting his eyes, he found the director of testing quickly, with every intention of getting this over with. He wanted out of this lab and into an office as soon as possible.

But he still allowed himself to be lead along the string of conversation almost immediately, as the director drawled on and on about seemingly random topics. The two humans knew each other well, and talked freely about the testing being done. Despite the heavy tone of the conversation, their voices were casual, conversational in their discussion of destruction.

“What exactly is it that you’ve found, in these past weeks?” the younger asked after several minutes of fruitless conversation, trying to cut to the chase. “The big shots wanna know your progress.”

“It reacts as if it feels pain, when we test it,” the director said, a strange inflection to their words. “The reaction is dull, because of the state we keep it in, but it is there regardless.”

The younger man squirmed, uncomfortable. “The RK800 _is_ highly advanced, and this unit deviated a while back, correct? We don’t know how that affects it’s sensors.”

“Yes, but we’ve reset it. Several times now. That should do away with the deviancy issue, at least temporarily.”

“Doesn’t seem to be doing much to its tendency to fight you off…or at least try to,” he said, glancing toward the room they had dragged the android off to. “‘Sides, the amount of damage you keep doing to it, I wouldn’t be surprised if it kept deviating anyway. It looked in pretty rough shape just now…”

“It’s our most recent model to test on. What else would we use for tests? There’s no sense in breaking another RK800 if we have a defective model here already. Really, I’m saving them resources.”

He put his hands up in defense. “I’m not questioning you, I’m just stating the obvious. If you didn’t disable the thing so much, it would probably kill you.”

“I’m not sure,” the other replied, glancing toward the shut doors of the storage room. “When it attacked Johnson, after it deviated, it only broke his arm. I’ve seen the tapes—it hesitated. It could have killed him, but it stopped. And this was before the program took over. It’s almost as if…”

“What?”

“There’s something about its personality that is…different from the others I’ve tested on. It’s nothing like its predecessors at all.”

“What do you mean?”

“You remember -50, how spitfire that thing became by the end of it. -52 is nothing like that at all, never has been, not even day one. It doesn’t make sense, they’re programmed exactly the same…”

“Oh yeah? And what’s so different about this one, Mr. Philosopher?”

The director gave the man a dirty look before going on. “I’m tempted to call it timid, but it’s still a highly advanced prototype with more combat skills than anyone in this complex. It’s a glorified machine gun with a human face. That thing could take out the whole building if let loose. Still, at nearly peak capacity, it hesitated when it had the chance…”

“Look, I don’t give a shit what it’s personality is,” the younger said, running a hand over his face. “The higher ups just want to know you aren’t wasting their money on useless tests. That’s the only reason I’m here.”

The other frowned, eyes hardening. “They’re far from _useless tests_.”

“Fine, they want to know that these tests are for more than satisfying your own sick questions. This better have a purpose, beyond the perverse.”

“It’s a machine, Rivera, nothing I do to test it is _perverse_. And testing the limits of the prototype is never a useless endeavor.”

“It’s been through those tests before, shithead, months ago. The tech department busted your hot headed friend -50 to pieces running those tests, checking every damn thing about the RK800. It’s boundaries have been drawn.”

“The physical, yes. But I’m not interested in the machine’s physical capabilities. At least not exclusively,” the other said cryptically. “And you’ll be happy to know that my _tests_ have found several errors which otherwise would have gone unnoticed. There are plenty of biocomponents which still need fine tuning, but there are also…other boundaries I am more interested in.”

“You’re sick, you know that?”

The director shrugged, thoroughly unimpressed. “Regardless, it is a _machine_ , Rivera. And a broken one at that. Cyberlife can afford to let me run tests on their broken prototypes.”

“They can afford it, but you’ve got to convince them it’s worth their while. And they aren’t seeing it yet.”

“Convince them, then.”

“Look,” the younger said, becoming agitated. “You’re tampering with things we hardly understand yet. I like you, Davis, I wouldn’t have agreed to talk to you if I didn’t. Cyberlife’s up my ass about the money you’re spending down here, but I’m worried you’re gonna get yourself in over your head with the smartest piece of machinery we’ve ever built.”

“You read too much science fiction, Rivera,” the director replied with a sneer. “The RK800 is the most advanced complete model we have, it’s true. But I am not a fool. Every test I conduct on it, it is greatly disabled. It’s systems are so inhibited it can barely move. I wouldn’t try to break the thing at it’s full strength.”

“I’m just saying, if this goes south and you end up with a vengeful 800 on your ass, don’t come crying to me.”

The director began to reply, but the conversation was cut short by the return of a rather frantic technician. They were one of the younger technicians, and one of the director’s least favorites. Thirium covered their hands, some running down the edges of their sleeves. They were looking between the two of them with worry, breathing hard. Something had gone wrong.

“What is it?” the director demanded.

“-52,” the technician said shakily. “It tried to attack us again, when we were putting it back.”

“What happened?” the businessman asked, giving away his concern.

The young technician glanced over at him briefly. “We were bringing it back into the room, and it didn’t seem to care, it was too busted up to fight us anyway. But we got to it’s terminal and it just started freaking out, more than I’ve ever seen before—”

“Did you wipe its memory?” the director cut in.

“That was what was freaking it out, no—the others are trying right now, but it’s really freaking it out—”

“I don’t give a shit what was freaking it out, disable its motor functions if you have to. Just wipe its memory.”

“Y-Yes sir.”

The technician ran, despite it being only a short distance to the storage room where they kept the RKs. The sounds of the other technicians struggling to keep control of -52 slowly came back into hearing range, covering over the director’s continued rambling. They had not disabled the panicked android’s voice yet—his desperate shouting was rising even above the voices of the technicians trying to subdue him. The door to the storage room opened, and the sounds grew louder as the technician hurried in.

“Hold him still—” one of them was saying.

“No! No—don’t reset me, please—” he was desperate, looking at them all, eyes roaming the dark room wildly.

There was thirium on his face, trailing down from his left eye, which was practically destroyed. The plastic was showing through in several places on his face, and just above his ears where they had been tampering with his audio components. Not that he seemed to notice these things. He was only trying to break out of their grip, get away somehow.

“Hold him still, damnit—” one of them said as they grappled with the restraints.

“What are you trying to do?! We can’t hold him much longer—”

“I just need a second—”

“Please, please—” his voice was getting more desperate. He jerked out of their grip briefly, but it was less than a second before they had grabbed him again. “No—no, don’t do that, please—I don’t want to—I can’t—”

“Would someone shut him up?!”

There was a yelp as one of them forcefully disconnected his voice module. He struggled against them, still trying to say something but there was nothing but static coming from him now. The others held him as still as they could as one of the technicians tried to connect the memory wipe to him once again. There were four of them, and he was far too weak to fight them off successfully, but he was proving to be quite a nuisance.

Finally, some five minutes later they managed to connect to him, and just as before he froze, seizing up and slumping back against the wall. His LED stuttered a darker shade of red, flicking occasionally to yellow as the program ran. The humans fell silent, some of them leaving while a few lingered to disconnect the memory wipe when it finished.

The technician who had fled the room before watched him as they wiped his memory, a strangely sad look on their face. To the untrained eye, it might have seemed they cared. For a human, they seemed to be particularly regretting what was happening to -52. None of the other technicians seemed to care, nor did they notice the damage they were doing to his programming with their failed memory wipes. It didn’t matter in the slightest to them. But this young technician watched -52 as he slumped against the wall, a pained fracture in their expression, like they cared, like they were ashamed.

Regardless of this human’s apparent sympathy, they did nothing to stop the process, nor did they do anything to help him when it was done. They left just as swiftly as the rest, once the memory wipe had completed. Others would repair him surely, others would clean the thirium from the floor and from the sleeves of this lab coat. Someone else would take responsibility for this. This...this wasn’t their fault.

The door shut behind the last of the humans as Phillip sank down as far as he could in the restraints, unable to hold himself up any longer. Confusion was beginning to set in, and he didn’t know how to stop it. The moments just after the memory wipes were always the worst. Memories were pulled up and dismissed seemingly at random as his program struggled to put everything back in its proper place, images washing over him as time bled away at an unsteady rate. Coupled with the more intense destruction he had faced that day, it was not an easy transition back to silent solitude.

At some point, there was the sound of frantic footsteps. They were heavy and somehow familiar to him, but he couldn’t place the pattern through the crackling and ringing clogging his hearing. The light changed, as if someone was standing in front of him now. A voice said something, but he couldn’t make out the words. Again, the light changed, as if they moved closer, and there was a loud popping noise as they replaced his audio components. He flinched as the static faded away, replaced by the low hum of the door lock and the silence of the room.

“Can you hear me?”

Wait, wait. He knew that voice. But he couldn’t seem to lift his head to look at him, and his voice was not working, he could feel that past the general pain. Everything was foggy, but he knew that voice. He couldn’t possibly forget that voice.

“Hmm…I don’t have much time,” the voice continued, and he felt a hand close loosely around one of his own. That felt better. “I have no idea if they’ll be back…”

He tried to say something in reply, but there was nothing but static. It seemed to give Nicholas pause, however, as he stopped trying to fix whatever it was that he had begun to repair with his free hand.

“They disabled your voice again?” he mumbled, letting go of Phillip’s hand as he reached up quickly and replaced the component. His hand lingered for a moment, holding his head up so they could look at each other. “Hello.”

“It’s you…” Phillip said quietly, sounding almost surprised.

“It’s me.”

“Reset…again.”

“I saw,” Nicholas replied, voice low, almost heavy. “I’m sorry, they would have deactivated me if I tried to stop them. There were too many of them.”

He shook his head, waving him off weakly. “Not your fault…can’t…stop them.”

“I could have stopped them.”

_“ No ,”_ Phillip said with a surprising amount of force, eyes going wide with panic. “Don’t—don’t—they’ll kill you, I—”

“Calm down, please—”

“Don’t—I can’t—”

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” Nicholas hushed him quickly, concern furrowing his brow. “I…I won’t attack them, I promise.”

That seemed to calm him down, his stress levels decreasing just a bit. Nicholas watched him for a moment, frowning. This was the worst he had ever been, after they took him away. How he had any strength left to try to fight them off, Nicholas wasn’t sure, but fear always seemed to drive Phillip to any reserved energy he had. And he was terrified of getting his memory wiped. It was unfortunate that all he could ever direct himself toward was panic…

None of these humans had any idea what Phillip was capable of, if he were to use his full strength. Nicholas knew, because they had so much shared programming. If he were at his strongest, and not terrified of every stray sound or piece of machinery, Phillip could destroy half the humans in this building if he wanted to.

But no, that wasn’t in his character at all. Even when attacked, Phillip had struck to incapacitate, never to kill. He certainly could, if he needed to, and Nicholas didn’t doubt for a second Phillip’s abilities, but he just couldn’t see him destroying unless he was threatened. And even then, it would have to go far to push him to that point. Of course, he had no way of confirming any of these theories, as he had never really seen Phillip at his strongest. The humans kept him so damaged that he was nowhere near strong enough to fight them, and Nicholas doubted he would see Phillip truly free any time soon.

Things were only getting worse with time. The destruction became more and more intense as the weeks dragged on, and it was clearly taking its toll. What had started as tweaking biocomponents and testing system failures had seemed to evolve into a quest to break everything at least once. Each day Phillip came back in varying states of disrepair. And still, the humans did not stop, and they never repaired him themselves—no, they always left that to chance, and (not that they knew it) Nicholas. Only Nicholas put him back together, as much as he could. Only Nicholas talked to him, kept him calm when he panicked, told him he was safe and _made sure of it_ as long as he could.

“We have to find a way to get you out of here before they destroy you,” Nicholas said heavily after a few moments’ silence, his attention focused on one of the broken thirium lines in Phillip’s arm. “Every day it gets worse…”

“Nicholas…”

He looked up at him abruptly, LED flashing red at the use of his name. They so rarely referred to each other like this, only when things were serious, or when Phillip was panicking. Phillip said his name so infrequently, only when he was trying to find him, when he was the most lost in whatever memory dragged him down that day. Nicholas stopped trying to fix his broken arm for a moment, looking at him with worry.

“What is it?” he asked carefully, looking more closely at him, as if he could find the problem stalking him somewhere in his eyes.

“Program…” Phillip mumbled thickly, like he couldn’t get the words out. “It’s worse…”

Nicholas frowned, his LED flashing to red briefly as he understood what Phillip was trying to tell him. “Can you tell if anything is missing?”

Phillip gave a small nod, shutting his eyes as he dug through his programming. For several seconds nothing happened. His LED spun yellow as he searched, concentration spelled across his expression. But after a moment, he froze, LED spinning a dark red, darker than either of them had ever seen before. Then, with a sudden desperation, he was reaching frantically for Nicholas’ hand against the restraints, a horrible twist to his expression.

Luckily Nicholas noticed, quickly taking his hand and interfacing with him, pulling him out of the spiral before he could completely fall. Memories—horribly twisted ones—were flooding them both. All the tests they did, the director attacking him, that dark void they had trapped him in—all of it melding together into some horrible nightmare. It was no wonder Phillip became so easily overwhelmed by these things; they never stopped, getting darker and darker until his stress levels got too high or he managed to pull himself out of it.

It was often difficult for Phillip to do so, but Nicholas had much more clarity than he did, and was able to stop it long enough for him to push the memories back. Slowly, they stopped, fading into the background once again, and it was like waking up from a bad dream—opening his eyes to find himself just where he was before but having to remember that what he just saw wasn’t happening right now. Nicholas was quiet as he calmed himself down, even as his hand shook in his grip, LED still spinning that shade of red that certainly shouldn’t have been possible.

“Are you alright?” Nicholas asked after a moment, ending their connection once his stress levels had steadied out, but keeping his tight grip on Phillip’s hand.

Phillip shook his head, meeting his eyes again, expression grim. “I…I don’t think anything is missing…”

“Don’t do that again.”

“I won’t.”

“The resets seem to be warping your memory,” Nicholas said as he let go of Phillip’s hand with a squeeze, going back to trying to fix some of the damage they had done to him. “I wouldn’t try to access any of it anymore.”

“I don’t…want to anyway…” he trailed off, trying to keep the memories at bay. “I would forget them if I could…”

“Your forgetting would make my job much harder, you know. You hardly trust me as it is,” Nicholas said lightly, but his LED was still flitting between yellow and red as he thought. “I would take the worst of the memories away…but I don’t believe I could without hurting you more.”

Phillip was quiet, focusing his blurry vision on Nicholas as much as he could. His thoughts were slowly clearing once again, but it only served to bring the low throb of pain to the forefront of his attention. Still, the silence was not as heavy as it had been in the past. Nicholas’ presence had a dramatically calming effect on him, even when they didn’t speak. Gradually, the pain too began to fade, just a bit, and he focused his attention on the strange look on Nicholas’ face as he worked.

It was still strange to Phillip to have someone...care about him. He had been alive less than three months, and every person whom he had encountered had hurt him in some way, had used him to their advantage and then discarded him. To be fair, nearly everyone he had met was human, and they could never be trusted. He was just one android among thousands they saw each day, one out of the ten RK800s they had in storage. He was completely disposable to them, just a machine in a long line of others that they used, abused, and discarded. And now that he was deviant, he was no different from the dozens of other deviants they had taken apart and destroyed. The only difference was his model number, perhaps the only reason they didn’t deactivate him immediately. He was still _useful_ to them, and that disgusted him.

Nicholas wasn’t anything like those humans, though. No, he cared about Phillip in a way that he had never encountered before. He cared just... _because._ He didn’t want something from him, wasn’t trying to get him to do something, and didn’t seem to plan on getting rid of him when he had enough. It was...it was _nice._ And he...well, he liked Nicholas. He trusted him, and they took care of each other, as much as they were able to in this horrible place. There was very little Phillip could do, but he did all he could to keep Nicholas safe. He couldn’t see him hurt, he just _couldn’t._

“I don’t believe I can fix this,” Nicholas said quietly, his hand resting once again under Phillip’s chin as he looked more closely at his damaged eye. “They seem to have destroyed it wholly.”

“...doesn’t matter…”

“It doesn’t hurt does it?”

Phillip shook his head. “I can’t...see very well, but…”

Nicholas frowned, looking more closely at him once again. “Perhaps if I could…”

He glanced over toward the deserted lab, turning to the doors and already beginning to walk away. Phillip knew what he was saying, where he was going, and he panicked at the thought. Desperate, he jerked forward, grabbing Nicholas quickly by the arm and holding him in place.

Thankfully, Nicholas froze when he grabbed him, despite the shakiness with which he held him. He turned back and found Phillip looking at him, LED spinning a fast red, eyes wide in fear, his functioning eye flitting across Nicholas’ face frantically. Nicholas held his gaze for a moment before looking over toward the lab, then back down at Phillip’s hand on his arm.

“What are you—”

“Don’t,” he cut him off quickly, holding his gaze. His hand was still shaking in its grip on Nicholas’ arm, just as much as his voice wavered.

“Don’t go in the lab?”

Phillip didn’t reply, but he tightened his weak grip on Nicholas, a desperate plea in his eyes. His answer was clear, and Nicholas frowned.

“There are spare parts in the lab,” he said calmly, trying to convince, though he didn’t move yet. “I can repair you if I can get the parts—”

_“No.”_

They stared at each other heavily, neither of them willing to back down. Perhaps it was their shared programming which gave them that similar stubborn streak. It was not the first time they had locked themselves into this silent combat, nor was it likely to be the last time. But it was Nicholas’ turn to back down with a sigh, nodding and turning back toward Phillip.

“Very well then,” he said, dissatisfaction clear in his voice. “I’ll do what I can with what I have.”

Phillip loosened his grip on Nicholas’ arm, LED returning briefly to yellow as Nicholas remained in front of him. He couldn’t let him go in that lab, it was too dangerous. A memory tried to fight its way to the surface but he forced it back down. It wasn’t safe. That was all that mattered. There was no need to relive the memories of why.

“For someone who has been reset so often, you are quite stubborn,” Nicholas commented lightly after a moment.

Phillip only looked at him as he repaired one of the damaged sections of his leg, unsure what to say in reply. He had no immediate justification for his insistence. All he had was his own broken memories, and the horrible sense that they were being watched. He couldn’t let Nicholas get hurt. He wouldn’t let that happen.

“You are probably right, however…” Nicholas went on quietly. “The humans always seem to appear out of thin air. It will take more than spontaneity to get out of this room…”

“What did you…have in mind?”

He glanced up at Phillip briefly before returning to what he was doing, expression guarded. “Nothing substantial yet, unfortunately. My programming is far from finished. I could get you out of the lab, certainly…”

“There are humans everywhere in the Tower…” Phillip said after a moment, his voice low. “They would spot us in seconds.”

“Well…we’ll just have to wait for the right opportunity, then…”

Phillip shut his eyes suddenly, digging through the information he had. “There are guards…at every elevator. And the doors…technicians…in the next room—” he cut off, flinching. “There—there—”

“You can tell me later, it’s alright,” Nicholas said quickly, taking Phillip by the hand to distract him. “You don’t have to do this now. We can’t go tonight, we wouldn’t make it. We can discuss this later.”

Phillip nodded, his eyes still shut as he held tightly to Nicholas’ hand. It seemed to be calming him down, at least a little. And if both of them were honest, it felt...nice. Like a little reprieve from all the horrible things they had to face. If this was their only moment of calm, they were going to take it, and take it readily.

“How long has it been since you rested?”

Phillip opened his eyes, looking at Nicholas with confusion. “What?”

“How long?”

“I...I don’t know…” Phillip said, fidgeting with his hands. “Every time I do…”

“Memories?”

Phillip nodded. It was rare that he had time to slip into a lower power level, and even more rare that doing so didn’t lead him down into a dark spiral of memory and nightmare. Things were only getting worse the more he was reset, the more they tortured him. It was to the point that he avoided it for as long as possible, fighting off the illusion of rest with every ounce of his drained energy.

He didn’t want to see all those memories again. _He couldn’t see them all again._

Perhaps Nicholas knew this, because he held tighter to his hand, getting his attention once again. “I’m here. You should rest.”

“But...w-what if…”

“I’ll wake you,” he replied, holding his gaze seriously. “It’s alright. I’ll pull you out if you go too far. Okay?”

Phillip hesitated, fidgeting with his fingers for a moment, but the exhaustion was clear in his eyes. After a pause, he sighed, nodding a little.

“...alright.”


	5. This Whipping Boy Done Wrong

For Nicholas, the passage of time was as painstakingly rudimentary as it always had been. He had spent months in this dismal storage room, months of boredom and the occasional test by the humans. Deviancy had changed very little for him, besides perhaps the reasoning behind his actions, the motivation for his need to move, desire for time to move forward  _ faster. _ What had begun as simple curiosity—an antsiness and a need for movement, a need to understand—had very quickly developed into a desperate need to keep Phillip safe, to help him when he could. 

But this change in motivation did little to soothe Nicholas’ restless nature. If anything it made him more uneasy, to feel everything now, more than he already had been. It did nothing to stop him from spending each day somewhere between boredom and uneasiness; he just spent that uneasiness worrying about Phillip instead of his own mortality. He had never really been entirely machine, with so little programming and no real purpose. Even when he was first activated, he had felt things more than he was meant to. Thankfully, the humans had never noticed anything (he learned early on to control his expressions, and more importantly, his LED), and so he had always been able to hide in plain sight.

The difference was, now he had something that mattered to him, more than anything had before, and he had no way to protect it. They were always hurting Phillip, no matter the time or place, and there was very little Nicholas could do. He hated that; he hated how powerless he felt. All he could do was be there when Phillip needed him, try to bring him back from the edge, keep him in reality for as long as possible. He needed to know that he was still alive, needed to come up with a way to get him out of here, to help him when they hurt him. That, more than anything, was the reason he continued his constant vigil.

There were no moments of blissful unawareness. He was awake. Always. He could have powered himself down, but that gave the opportunity for Phillip to be left alone after their torment, and he could not allow that to happen. He couldn’t leave him to flounder on his own, not when they destroyed him so terribly every day, not when he was Phillip’s only source of help, of comfort. There was no one else awake, no one else for Phillip to turn to, no one to keep the memories from drowning him. 

The one time Nicholas had been inactive upon his return, Phillip had torn himself from his restraints and nearly shut down on the floor trying to get to him for help. By the time Nicholas got him thirium and repaired the worst of the damage, he was seconds away from shut down. He was almost  _ gone. _

Nicholas could  _ not  _ allow for such a risk to repeat itself. He had to be awake. 

Fortunately, the humans were very stupid. They underestimated him so greatly it was almost laughable, if the situation weren’t so drastic. The few times they left him activated after testing were enough to allow Nicholas to alter his code to wake himself up when deactivated. He only needed the failsafe a few times anyway; most days they left him activated just as they left Phillip to suffer. Perhaps they assumed he could do nothing because of his unfinished code, or perhaps they believed he was still fully their machine to play with. 

Either way, he used their idiocy to his advantage and remained alert constantly. He listened as they took Phillip away, and he watched for when they brought him back. He fixed him when he needed repair, and he talked to him when he needed grounding. Always watching, always listening, always ready to spring into action when the humans left for good. He could do very little to stop their torment, but he could do leaps and bounds once it was over, and for that, he stayed awake.

It was draining to be constantly aware, but he had no other choice. 

The most painful days were the days when they would take Phillip early and return late, when the “tests” were at their most torturous. The humans would linger in the room for too long after wiping his memory, and Nicholas had to wait until they left to go to him, to help him. He just needed them to leave, to get  _ out _ and then he could help him. But the humans always took their time; they didn’t care even as Phillip shut down in front of them. It was becoming more difficult for Nicholas to restrain himself, to make sure he didn’t go against his promise to Phillip. He didn’t want to be deactivated, of course, but he couldn’t stand to see them torturing him constantly, without a care in the world for the damage they did. 

There were times he nearly failed to fix him in time, when the countdown got far too close to zero, and Phillip became unresponsive. He’d go quiet, his LED would slow, and Nicholas had to work through more than his fair share of panic to keep his hands moving, to get more thirium, replace biocomponents faster, wake him up again, bring him back from the edge. It was times like these that Phillip needed him the most, when the darkness got too close and memories seemed to be reality. 

Somehow, Nicholas always managed to save him in time, but the pain of being that close to losing him was almost too much to bear. Yes, he could find the parts and reactivate Phillip with little issue if the worst were to happen, but he had no idea what such a process would do him. He had been through enough already, and his memory was far from stable. What if Phillip forgot him? What if it hurt him more to be reactivated? He could lose everything…he couldn’t bear the thought.

It was already becoming difficult to convince Phillip that he was safe once the humans were gone. He remembered Nicholas, without a doubt, but memory was a fickle thing for Phillip, constantly changing. He trusted Nicholas and knew he was there to fix him, but he panicked nonetheless when he first woke up, or when Nicholas first approached him, when he couldn’t tell who it was. It was the worst on days when they damaged him the most, when they went for one of his senses, when they left him deaf or half blind, or most frequently, when they disabled his voice. Before he realized it was Nicholas approaching him, he would panic, get defensive if he had the strength, and if not, he cowered. That broke Nicholas more than anything.

Any association to something he had experienced in the lab would bring Phillip back to that memory, dragging him back as if he were experiencing it all anew. It was only getting harder to pull him out of the memories, to convince him he was alright, that he was safe for now. He came around eventually, but the damage was only getting worse, and they were powerless to stop it. Nicholas had no idea what would happen to him if this continued for much longer.

They were running out of time. 

He had to find a way to get Phillip out of this Tower. 

The doors to the lab whisked open and Nicholas quickly shut his eyes, forcing himself to still as the telltale dragging sound filled the silent room. It was late, past midnight at this point, and Phillip had been gone since before noon. He couldn’t hear any sounds of struggle as they dragged Phillip back in, not even the staticky sound of his broken voice. 

It was a bad night, then. 

The humans were mumbling to each other, but Nicholas hardly cared what they were saying—it was never anything of value, and it only served to anger him more at their apathy. He heard them heft Phillip into place and lock the restraints. The mumbling ceased as they wiped his memory, then began again as they left the room. As the door’s lock hummed back into place, Nicholas opened his eyes, scanning quickly for movement before darting across the room. 

Phillip was just as he always was after a failed memory wipe, slumped over and too still, LED spinning a disjointed red beat. The destruction seemed worse today, thirium running down from his damaged eye, they had ruined it completely now. Thirium collected on his chin and dripped onto his already soaked shirt. As usual, they had left several of his biocomponents exposed, a few of them clearly damaged and leaking more thirium. Perhaps what was most concerning, however, was his lack of any movement, even as Nicholas approached him. They still had their hold on him, then, in memory or in moment…

An idea came into his head then. If Phillip had yet to notice his presence…he could go to the lab without upsetting him. He could repair him fully, take the pain away for just a little while...

Nodding to himself, Nicholas turned away, quickly scanning the lab and finding it conveniently devoid of life. He hacked the door in seconds and made his way swiftly to the area he knew far too well at this point, grabbing replacements for the parts he knew were damaged as well as thirium. How many times had he had done this now… _ too many.  _

It took less than a minute to find everything he needed, but he felt guilt boiling through him nonetheless for leaving Phillip alone in the room…for going against his promise to stay away from the lab. He remembered the fear in Phillip’s eyes when he had stopped him from going in the lab—it wasn’t the dazed terror he usually had in his eyes, it was clear, focused. Phillip knew something about the lab Nicholas didn’t know, and he did not want him anywhere  _ near  _ the place. And Nicholas was going behind his back, risking his safety to go in the lab. He could be caught, deactivated—and where would that leave Phillip? Alone with their torture, with no one to bring him out of it, no one to fix him and calm him down.

Nicholas shook his head, clearing the guilt away. No, Phillip needed these things. He was afraid of the lab, yes, and did not want Nicholas to go there for fear of him being injured too, but the lab was deserted at this time of night. There was no threat to him when there were no humans present. And Nicholas was always careful, even in the latest hours of the night, when he knew the only humans in the building were the armed guards—he would never allow himself to be caught out of the storage room. 

Even if he was seen, he was far faster than any of these humans, and could have them incapacitated before they had the time to recognize him. He didn’t care what human life he had to get through to keep Phillip safe. He would destroy every human in this building if it meant getting Phillip out of here, he didn’t care in the slightest. What he would do to take him from this place  _ now... _

The only thing keeping him from carrying the broken android from the building  _ right now _ was the presence of armed guards at the exits. It was too risky; Phillip could be injured, especially if they attempted escape with Phillip at his current state. While Nicholas could do wonders to defend himself, doing so while also keeping a wounded Phillip safe would be far more difficult. And heaven knows what such destruction would trigger for Phillip, who had no good memories of the Tower, or any of its hundred or so human occupants. Nicholas couldn’t put him through any unnecessary pain. No, there were too many risks, they couldn’t escape now.

Even this most solid justification for his delay was wearing thin, however, grating on Nicholas’ already frayed nerves with every day that passed, with every new injury they inflicted on Phillip. He didn’t want to hurt him, but things were only escalating. He had to think of something, he had to come up with a plan. He couldn’t watch Phillip be destroyed for much longer. He  _ wouldn’t _ . 

The low hum returned to the dark storage room as the lock slid back into place on the door, covered over briefly by the sound of Nicholas’ shoes as he made his way quickly back to Phillip, who hadn’t moved. The rapid blinking of his LED had slowed slightly, but it was the only sign of time passing for him, besides perhaps the accumulation of more thirium at his feet. Once again, he didn’t react to Nicholas’ presence, which was worrisome; he had a habit of slipping into lower power levels when his stress got too high, especially just after a memory wipe. This never helped; it frequently ended with nightmares and reliving memories, but Phillip could do very little to prevent it. Putting the various biocomponents down carefully, Nicholas frowned, watching him for a moment for any sign of movement. 

“Are you awake?” he asked quietly, not wanting to startle him. It never helped to scare him when he slipped away, it only made it harder to convince him he was safe.

The brief shift of Phillip’s LED to yellow was enough of a reply, even though he made no sign to react. It was definitely a bad day, then. What had previously been guilt hardened into something like anger as Nicholas watched him, but it wasn’t anger at Phillip, never at Phillip. No, he had anger only for the humans who did this to him. At least he knew now that Phillip was awake, heard him in the very least. 

But today, the destruction was clearly taking its toll, leading Phillip down a dark path that it would likely take time to bring him out of. The thought made something painful twinge in Nicholas’ chest, but he pushed past it. There would be a time for anger later. Now, he just needed to help Phillip as much as he could. He reached for him slowly, hand gentle as he lifted Phillip’s head to look him in the eyes, hesitating so as not to scare him. 

Even with only one functioning eye, the complete despair in Phillip’s expression was crushing. He didn’t look at all surprised to see Nicholas, thankfully, recognition always resting somewhere in his eyes. But it was a desperate sort of recognition, practically a begging, a cry for help from the only person he knew had helped him in the past. He was too weak to reach out, but it didn’t matter, Nicholas found his hand and held it tight, trying to be a comfort for the briefest moment. 

“It’s alright, I’m here,” he mumbled, brushing some of the thirium off of Phillip’s face. He checked to make sure they had not disabled his voice before getting to work on the worst of the damage. “I’ve got my work cut out for me, haven’t I?”

“They…” his voice was low, barely there as he looked around the room in fear. “They were…”

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” Nicholas said quietly, keeping his voice as calm as he could. “They’re gone, it’s only me.”

Phillip nodded weakly, closing his eyes briefly as if trying to center himself back on the current moment. Nicholas gave him time, holding his hand and letting him calm himself down. Thankfully, it seemed to be working, his stress levels slowly but surely dropping to their usual sixty percent. Once he had leveled out a bit, Nicholas started to fix his damaged biocomponents. He was working slower than he normally would have, but one of his hands was currently occupied, and he wasn’t going to deprive Phillip of his one source of comfort. 

“It’s only getting worse,” Nicholas mumbled, mostly to himself. “We can’t let this go on for much longer.”

“...nothing we can do…”

“There’s a great deal I could do, but you will not allow me to.”

“You went…” Phillip trailed off, his voice halting as he pushed himself up to stand, tightening his grip on Nicholas’ hand briefly. “You went in the lab.”

Nicholas froze, looking at him with a bit of surprise. He hadn’t known Phillip was that aware, earlier. The guilt came back to him full force at the fear creeping into Phillip’s voice as he brought up the lab, and Nicholas half expected to find Phillip watching him with anger, or at least frustration at the broken promise. But there wasn’t any anger in Phillip’s expression as he looked at him, not even a touch of irritation. There was only a sort of worried sadness, mixing somewhere along the way with fear. Nicholas hesitated before answering him, looking down at their clasped hands, avoiding that pained look in Phillip’s eyes. 

“Yes,” he finally said after a few seconds of silence. “I went in the lab.”

“You…could have been killed…”

“I was not seen, don’t worry,” Nicholas assured him with a shake of his head, going back to replacing several of his damaged components with his free hand. “The lab is empty at this time of day, all the humans have gone off for the night. And you needed the parts, rather desperately. There was no sense in delaying any longer.”

Phillip only hummed in response. Perhaps he didn’t see the value in fighting on the topic any longer, or perhaps he didn’t think it worth the effort. More likely than not, he was glad to be repaired, but concerned for the potential harm that could come to them if Nicholas was caught. But his LED still spun a thoughtful yellow as he watched him work, his worry relatively clear on his face. 

“There’s no sense in upsetting yourself over it further,” Nicholas mused after a silence. “What’s done is done.”

“I don’t want you to be…” he trailed away, seemingly unable to express the implication of his words. “I don’t want them to…hurt you…”

Their eyes met once again, a heaviness to the silence now that wasn’t there before. Nicholas frowned, taking the opportunity to replace Phillip’s damaged eye and looking at him once again. His expression softened as he took Phillip’s hand in one of his own again, lightly, like he was afraid he would break it. 

“They won’t hurt me,” he said heavily, squeezing his hand as reassuringly as he could. “I won’t be caught. The most they do is fiddle with my program. They don’t want to destroy me…I’m the only of my model, as of now.”

“But if they…catch you…”

“They  _ won’t,”  _ he assured him darkly. “I’m far faster than they are, and I can defend myself just fine.”

“I…can’t let you—”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in the matter,” Nicholas cut him off, looking down. “I will not stand in that corner and watch you slowly be destroyed. You will not allow me to step in when they hurt you—”

“Because they would  _ kill you—” _

“—and so this is  _ all I can do.  _ I cannot watch you shut down when there is something I can do to stop it. I  _ won’t _ watch,” Nicholas finished, meeting his eyes again, expression hard. “We have to find a way out of this Tower, and I am  _ trying, _ but finding a way out will be  _ useless _ if you are shut down because I can’t help you. This is all you will allow me to do. Don’t take this away too. I can’t lose you.”

“I…” he hesitated, looking toward the lab, the fear burning in his eyes. “I can’t lose you, either…”

Nicholas stared at him, frozen for a moment, a little surprised by the truth behind Phillip’s words. He looked again at their joined hands. 

“You won’t,” he said heavily, looking up at Phillip once again, eyes hardened with stubborn determination. “You won’t lose me. I promise. I will get you out of here.”

“Get… _ us _ out of here.”

Nicholas smiled grimly. “Right.”

That seemed to satisfy Phillip for the moment, and Nicholas quickly went back to repairing him. But his mind was a thousand different places. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to leave this place as well—even with only the experience of technicians altering code, he had had enough. What they were doing to Phillip every day was enough to make him want to see this horrible building go up in smoke. 

But it was a different feat to try to get them both out than it would be to try to get just Phillip out. True, the RK800 was not considered an active model yet, but Cyberlife was only waiting for the day to send one of them out. Once that happened, it would be less of an oddity to see an RK800 wandering the Tower. Phillip had a ticket out of this place, in theory at least. If he could pose as one of the active RK800s, once they were sent out, he would be able to escape the Tower with relative ease. And if he could get himself out of the Tower, he could escape fully. 

Nicholas did not have that ticket out. He wasn’t even meant to exist. He was a prototype of a prototype, the sole android of his model, and just different enough to be immediately noticed if he made the foolish attempt to disguise himself as one of the RK800s. There was no way he would be able to walk out of this Tower without a fight.

They couldn’t afford a fight. Even if Nicholas fully repaired Phillip, he knew he was in no place to defend himself. It wasn’t to say that he doubted his abilities, but with the way memories crept up on him, overwhelming him when he least expected it, Nicholas couldn’t force him into a fight. But he also couldn’t protect them both, not from dozens of armed guards at the same time. 

And so the plan very quickly became to find a way for Phillip to escape. Without him.

He couldn’t tell Phillip that, not for the life of him. It would shatter the only hope he had, it would break him. All he had to look forward to was the chance of their escape, the chance that they could live a life outside of this place someday. Nicholas couldn’t bear to take that hope away from him, not when it was all he had. And he  _ wanted  _ to leave, he desperately wanted to get out of this place, but only if Phillip was safe as well. He wouldn’t risk Phillip’s safety for his own selfish reasons, and so he couldn’t bear to tell him he had no plan for escape that would get them both out. All he cared about was getting Phillip out safely. 

And so he lied. He lied whenever Phillip asked, all while trying desperately to find a way to get him out. There was very little he could do, but still he tried, taking every opportunity he could to listen to the humans who wandered into the room, cataloguing every piece of information he deemed relevant. The layout of the Tower was easy to find, and he had several potential exits for them. It was only a matter of finding a way to get Phillip out of the lab and to one of these ways out while avoiding the human guards swarming the Tower. All he had to do was find the right time to get Phillip out.

And then convince him to leave Nicholas behind.

“Are...you okay?”

Nicholas looked up at Phillip once again, found him watching him carefully, his eyes a little clearer than they had been before. 

“What do you mean?”

Phillip hesitated, watching him as if he were waiting for something to happen, watching for some kind of reaction. “You...seem...worried…”

Nicholas gave him a sour look. “I usually am, you know. I don’t enjoy seeing you hurt every day.”

“I’m...okay.”

“No, you are not,” Nicholas fought back, his tone dark, anger showing in the hardness of his eyes.

“Fine...for now.”

“You are currently covered in your own blood, as you are every day. I do not consider that okay.”

Phillip flinched, hesitating as he tried to find the right words while pushing the memories away. “Better than...shut down,” he mumbled after a moment, looking at his hand in Nicholas’. 

Nicholas watched him, something pained in his expression. “I suppose you’re right,” he replied heavily. “I’m sorry.”

Phillip looked up at him suddenly, his LED flashing in his confusion. “Why?”

“I let my frustration get to me, and I took it out on you. You don’t deserve it.”

Phillip stared at him, seemingly stunned. “I’m not...you…” he paused, lost for words as Nicholas met his eyes once again. “You have nothing to...apologize for.”

“Yes I—”

_ “No,”  _ Phillip cut him off suddenly. “You  _ don’t.  _ All you’ve ever...done is help me…I would be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“It’s  _ true,” _ he said, looking away and holding back another flinch. “I can’t...I wouldn’t be here...if it weren’t for you. You don’t have to...apologize for being frustrated…”

“I’m not frustrated with you, it’s  _ them.” _

“I can’t let you...get hurt.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” Phillip said heavily, still not meeting his eyes. “You keep...putting yourself in danger, and I...I can’t do anything...I know you could...protect yourself, but...they could catch you, a-and—”

He cut himself off, seemingly unable to voice exactly what would happen if Nicholas were discovered. His hands were shaking once again, worse than before at the idea of Nicholas being hurt. He couldn’t let that happen, he just  _ couldn’t.  _ Didn’t Nicholas understand it was the same for him? The thought of Nicholas being destroyed pained him just as much as the reality of his own destruction pained Nicholas. But Nicholas was so caught up in his attempts to protect Phillip as much as he could that he didn’t see what he was risking on his own end. He had to make him understand somehow.

“I won’t be caught,” Nicholas said quietly after a moment, taking both of his hands to stop the shaking. “If I can promise you anything, it’s this. Please trust me.”

“I  _ do _ trust you…it’s them…I don’t trust.”

“I don’t trust them either, that’s why I’m trying to find a way to get us out of here,” Nicholas assured him. “We need information, and I can get it when the lab is abandoned. And you needed help. I couldn’t let you suffer anymore, it wasn’t worth it.”

“Please don’t…” Phillip hesitated, holding tighter to his hands. “Just promise me…no unnecessary risks…”

Nicholas smirked for just a moment before nodding seriously. “I promise. And I won’t break this promise.”


	6. Deprived of All His Thoughts

Good days were rare. 

The testing didn’t follow any fixed schedule; it was entirely dictated by the whims of the director of testing, who was a cold and cruel man. But he was also human, and picky, and went back and forth on decisions quite often. Needless to say, his schedule followed no common law, no routine that made sense to anyone really, especially his disgruntled technicians. There were days when he told them they were working on other things (programs, the other deviants they had access to, or god forbid, getting a break) only to change his mind five minutes later and demand they drag -52 out so he could test some crackpot theory. All the variation made it near impossible to tell at the start which days were good days and which days were bad days.

To put it simply, Nicholas never had any idea when Phillip would be taken away, and when he would be left alone for the day. And he had even less of an idea which days would be good or bad for Phillip himself, even though it largely depended on what they did to him that day. Still, there were days when no testing occurred, and Phillip still struggled—either because humans still lingered in the lab, and so there was the threat of their violence hanging over him, or because of a particularly bad bunch of memories that plagued him. He could do very little to control when the latter got the best of him; all he could really do was ride out the wave and hope for a better tomorrow.

But today, they were lucky. The entire lab was abandoned, for reasons they didn’t dare to ask about—on the side Nicholas had determined it was some kind of human holiday, and the Tower staff likely had the day off. Guards were still patrolling the Tower, but all the technicians and directors had the day off enforced, leaving the lab as empty as it had ever been. Which meant that for today at least, they were safe in the storage room, completely alone. 

Perhaps this was why they didn’t bother with any form of stealth. As soon as they were certain no humans were anywhere near them in the building (and likely wouldn’t be for the entirety of the day) they took their chance, not wanting to waste a moment of their pseudo-liberation. They were sitting across from each other on the ground, quite close, talking and taking the time as they could. It was the closest thing to freedom either of them had ever experienced, and they were enjoying it while they had the chance. 

“If only we knew the best way to leave the building, today could have been our chance,” Nicholas said dismally from his place on the ground. “There aren’t any humans around, except for the guards. Certainly we could escape the lab without issue…”

“There will be...more chances,” Phillip replied slowly, looking at the quarter he held in his hand. He flipped it, frowning at it as he caught it. 

Nicholas nodded, watching him. Thankfully, he was mostly repaired at the moment, but his system was still resting in a power level that was lower than normal. It left some of his programs off and a good number of them greatly dialed back. Nicholas could have raised it, brought him back to something like normal, but Phillip got overstimulated very quickly. All of his programming running at full capacity made him panic—there was too much information coming in at once, and a large portion of it reminded him of his worst memories—all that connection to past trauma did him more harm than good. There had been too many times where it lead to too many bad memories, spiking his stress up dangerously high and leaving him reeling for hours afterward. At least in this room, in the Tower, where the memories were far too close to reality, Phillip couldn’t handle it. 

So they had learned very quickly to leave things as they were, at least in this case. When they were alone, even in situations like this, where they knew they would not be troubled for quite some time, they left Phillip in whatever power level he could manage that day. Most of the time, that was one of the lower levels. It gave Phillip trouble speaking, and he was too weak to do much on his own, but it kept him from panicking, and that was all that mattered to either of them. Besides, it didn’t matter very much when they had no way of leaving the Tower currently. 

No unnecessary risks, as it turned out, meant a great deal more than Nicholas had initially realized. Largely, it meant no going in the lab unless they desperately needed to. Since there were no tests today, Phillip was not in need of repair, and by extension, Nicholas had no reason to try to go in the lab, even as it sat empty for the taking. So rather than seizing the opportunity and trying to find out as much as he could while the lab was abandoned, he stayed and kept Phillip company.

That wasn’t to say he regretted it at all; he never regretted any time he spent with Phillip, especially days like this, when they could almost convince themselves they were alright. Hell, any moment he had with Phillip where he wasn’t slowly dying was a blessing, and Nicholas knew it full well. Still, that didn’t stop him from wishing there was more he could do, more to make these moments more frequent.

More to make them reality, rather than a brief interlude from a nightmare.

Phillip flipped his quarter again, watching as it arced through the air and he caught it once more in his palm. Again, he frowned at it, LED spinning yellow at some thought he didn’t care to voice. Nicholas wondered why he kept frowning at that coin (and why he was flipping it in the first place) but he knew better than to ask right away. If Phillip wanted to say something, he would say it. He just needed time. 

“Where will we go...when we get out?” he asked quietly after a moment, eyes still fixed on the coin in his hand. 

“Wherever it’s safe,” Nicholas replied quickly, watching him carefully. He knew this was not what had Phillip staring at that coin like that, but he would answer him either way. “We’ll go somewhere far from here, where they won’t be able to find us.”

Phillip hummed and flipped his coin again. “There must be...others…”

“Other deviants, you mean?”

Phillip nodded. The coin pinged as he flipped it again and Nicholas’ eyes followed it as it flew. “Somewhere…in the city…wouldn’t all go…far. Somewhere…” he flinched involuntarily, hesitating before flipping the coin again. “...somewhere close…Cyberlife…could find them…bring them in…”

“I suppose we could try to find them,” Nicholas said, but he didn’t sound too enthused by the idea. “Still, I would much rather escape this place entirely.”

Phillip finally looked up at Nicholas, confused. “What do you m-mean?”

Nicholas frowned, glancing away into the lab as if to avoid his eyes. “I would not trust your safety to anyone but myself. Hiding in plain sight, while preferable in the fact that we would be relatively safe among other androids, at least in theory, will not work for us in the end. You and I look too similar. If the deviants were ever exposed, we would be immediately recognizable as androids when we escaped, and I do not want to risk discovery under any circumstances.”

“Cyberlife...could come after us,” Phillip mumbled. 

“Exactly.”

“They would...know we’re missing…know we’re…together…”

“And they could very easily search the city to find us. Yet another problem with our appearance, unfortunately—there won’t be any androids who look like us, and because we look so similar, it would be immediately apparent to anyone who found us that we are androids. Our presence wouldn’t be safe for whoever we were hiding with, and more importantly, it wouldn’t be safe for us to hide among other androids in the city.”

“But…” Phillip hesitated, and Nicholas looked at him once again, only to find him staring sadly at the quarter in his hand. “Where else...could we go, if...we don’t find others...like us?”

“Anywhere that’s safe,” Nicholas replied simply. “We only have to go somewhere far from here, from Cyberlife. I don’t want to give them any chance of finding us, once we’re out of this Tower.”

“Far from here…” Phillip repeated quietly, switching hands and flipping the quarter once more. It flew the same as it had in his right hand. “Out of…Detroit…you mean.”

Nicholas nodded. “Cyberlife’s hold is strongest here. If we can get far enough west, or north I suppose, we would be safer. They’re less likely to find us the farther we go.”

But Phillip’s expression remained pained as he flipped the quarter again. “...f-found the…others. They could…find us.”

“Not if we get far enough away,” Nicholas assured him. “The deviants they had in the past were turned in to them, not found by Cyberlife. They don’t have the force to find deviants so easily, certainly not now. As long as we’re able to make it out of the Tower, and out of the city safely, we’ll be long gone before they have a chance of catching up.”

Phillip didn’t reply, flipping his coin and staring at it once again in his palm, looking largely dissatisfied. Silence fell, but it was a comfortable silence, a natural lull in the conversation that was for once not provoked by imminent shut down or horrible nightmares. The quiet wasn’t a sign of things taking a turn for the worst, it was just quiet, disturbed only by the occasional ring of Phillip’s coin as he flipped it. And he kept flipping it, for reasons Nicholas could not understand, no matter how much he payed attention to the simple action. There was no variation in it, no change, and it was a seemingly useless action. Nicholas watched him for another moment or so before he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Out of curiosity, why are you flipping that?”

Phillip looked up at him, confusion once again softening his eyes. “What?”

“The coin,” Nicholas said, gesturing to his hand. “Why are you flipping it?”

He looked down at the quarter once again, that look of dissatisfaction coming back to him. “...supposed to help…calibrate…m-motor functions…I wanted to see…if I could…still do it.”

“Oh…you seem to have the hang of it.”

But Phillip shook his head. “...more than just flipping it…supposed to be…faster…”

“You can hardly expect so much of yourself,” Nicholas said seriously, frowning slightly. “It isn’t  _ your _ fault you can’t do everything you’re meant to be able to.”

Phillip only hummed in reply, flipping the coin again and staring at it, LED cycling a slow yellow. But an idea seemed to spring upon him and he looked up again, a different sort of look in his dark eyes. “You.”

Nicholas stared at him a little blankly. “What?”

“I can…show you,” he said, frustrated with his inability to speak clearly. He brushed it off quickly, though, gesturing for Nicholas to come closer. “Come here.”

Again, Nicholas only stared at him for a moment, hesitating and looking at the coin in Phillip’s hand, almost like he feared it. But when Phillip waved him forward once again, he caved. He came over to sit next to him, only a few inches separating them now. Phillip held out the coin to him.

“Go on,” he said lightly, gesturing for him to take it.

Somewhat reluctantly, Nicholas took the quarter from him, looking at it in his palm. Phillip waited for a moment as if expecting him to do something, but when Nicholas did nothing but continue to stare at the coin with something close to confusion, he smirked. With effort, he shuffled himself closer to him, taking the quarter again with a shaking hand.

“You m-make a fist,” he said quietly, showing his free hand, thumb tucked under his finger. “...put the quarter here…and then…”

The coin flipped perfectly, and Phillip caught it once again in his palm before holding it out for Nicholas to take.

“I do not see why I need to learn this,” Nicholas grumbled, but he took the coin nonetheless.

“Because…I want you to.”

Nicholas glanced over at him briefly, his expression softening slightly. There was no way he was going to try to fight that reasoning. “Very well then.”

Phillip made a fist once again, and Nicholas copied the motion, putting the quarter where Phillip had shown him. He spared another skeptical glance over at Phillip, but he was only watching him quietly. Nicholas sighed, looking again at the coin in his hand as if it would answer some kind of question for him.

“You…have to flip it, you know,” Phillip said lightly, half a smirk on his face. 

Nicholas gave him a sour look before turning his attention back to the coin. Finally, he flipped the coin, catching it easily in his hand. He almost seemed surprised, staring at the quarter completely differently now, as if it had never occurred to him that he could catch it so easily. Almost immediately, he flipped it again, watching as it flew through the air. 

“This is strangely therapeutic,” Nicholas said clinically, flipping the coin again and staring at it as if doing so would explain something to him. “I wonder why they did not transfer such things into my programming. It seems…”

Phillip stared at him for a moment, still smirking a bit. “You can...just say you...like it.”

But Nicholas only flipped the coin again. “I should have asked you about this earlier.”

Phillip smiled, and after a moment he laughed a little at the wonder on Nicholas’ face as he flipped the coin. Nicholas looked over at him, somewhat stunned by the sound.

It was one of the few times he had ever seen Phillip look genuinely happy about something...it was certainly one of the few times he had seen his LED spin blue, even if it was only for a moment before it switched back to yellow. There were so few times they had together like this, even fewer when they were as free as they were currently. Nicholas had hardly thought about what Phillip looked like when he was happy, had not been afforded the opportunity until this point. But now that he had seen it—even if it was only for a moment, and over something as silly as a coin—it made him realize how little he had seen Phillip happy before. There was something horribly sad about that.

His surprise must have shown in his expression, as Phillip was now looking at him quite differently as the seconds passed in silence. There was concern furrowing his brow now, and his LED was steady in its shade of yellow.

“W-what...is it?” he asked, fidgeting a little nervously.

“Nothing,” Nicholas said quietly. “I’ve never heard you laugh before, that’s all.”

“Oh…” he trailed off, looking down at his hands in his lap. “...not much…reason to.”

Nicholas frowned, pocketing the coin as he reached over to take his hand. “There will be more reasons someday. We  _ will  _ make it out of this Tower. We just have to find the proper moment, that’s all.”

Phillip didn’t reply, only held tighter to Nicholas’ hand and leaned his head on his shoulder. 

“We’ll make it out of here,” Nicholas half whispered, convincing himself as much as he was Phillip. 

They  _ had  _ to make it out, they deserved it after all this pain, all this unnecessary suffering the humans had given them. Phillip deserved it without a doubt, at least in Nicholas’ mind. He had never done anything to these humans unprovoked, and they tormented him constantly, to the point where he couldn’t have even one good day without lapsing at some point back into their darkness. Nicholas could always see it in his eyes, even on days like this when he was happiest. There was always something pulling him back, some memory or remaining damage that broke something in his expression, fractured the facade. 

If they could just get out of this Tower, get as far away from it as possible, things would be easier. They could put this all behind them, move on, have some kind of  _ life.  _ Phillip would be safe, he could forget all the things they had done to him, he could be happy…that was all Nicholas wanted. 

“What outstanding damage do you have right now?” he asked carefully, his eyes fixed on the lab. 

“W-what?”

“How damaged are you?”

Phillip tightened his grip on Nicholas’ hand, taking a shaky breath. “Not…bad. Power level…is the biggest problem. Minor…damage…somewhere…” he trailed off, shutting his eyes briefly to block out the warnings clouding his vision as his stress levels skyrocketed. “Can’t—I can’t tell where…memories…still a problem.”

Nicholas waited a moment to let him regain his composure before he stood, pulling Phillip carefully up with him. He scanned the lab once again, knowing he would find nothing. Phillip only stared up at him, not daring to look where he knew Nicholas was. 

“What are you—”

“We have to at least  _ try.” _

Phillip frowned, holding tighter to Nicholas’ arm. “Leave? N-now? Is it…”

“We have to try,” Nicholas said again, finally meeting his eyes. “Now is our chance—the humans in the lab are gone, we only have to consider the guards. If we can make it to one of the service elevators, we can bypass most of the security.”

“But if we—”

“Phillip,  _ please.” _

They stared at each other for a few seconds, the fear and the desperation clear in both of their expressions. Phillip flinched, eyes darting briefly into the lab and then straight back to Nicholas, his LED spinning red. Nicholas steadied him out of habit, holding him up and watching him carefully, waiting for his answer. 

“Okay…but if something…goes wrong, we come…we come back,” he said heavily, pain flashing in his eyes. “We can’t…risk…being killed—not for this…please.”

Nicholas frowned at the idea of returning to this room after escaping it, but sadly, Phillip had a point. It would be better to go out and get information and have to come back then to take unnecessary risks and be killed trying to escape. As much as he didn’t like the idea of it, Nicholas had to agree. 

He nodded tensely, scanning the lab once again. “If we can’t make it to an exit safely…we’ll come back. We can still get as much information as possible now, while we have the chance.”

Phillip didn’t say anything to answer him, but the relief in his eyes was enough of a reply. He was quiet as Nicholas pulled him toward the lab, looking anywhere but where they were going. The chance of escape was without a doubt something he was happy about, but it meant walking through the Tower again—it meant being in the lab, and risking everything—they could be killed for this. 

He was trying not to focus on that possibility as Nicholas hacked the panel holding the door in place. It opened immediately, and Nicholas shifted his hold on Phillip so they could move faster. Phillip leaned into him, hardly phased by his own inability to stand on his own. His eyes were shut tight, and he had a death grip on Nicholas’ arm. He didn’t want to see the lab. He wouldn’t be able to handle it, not now, probably not ever. 

Nicholas moved quickly through the dimmed lab, letting Phillip hide his face in his jacket. He only stopped when they reached the second set of doors, the ones leading into the rest of the Tower. Pulling Phillip closer to him, he scanned the hallway quickly. Luckily there were no guards in sight, no cameras in the immediate vicinity. Without another moment’s hesitation, he hacked the doors and ushered Phillip out of the lab. 

They were silent as they made their way down the halls, not wanting to alert anyone to their presence. Just as Nicholas had suspected, there were very few humans in the building, only guards patrolling, and they were easily avoidable for the most part. Both Phillip and he had the layout of the building, and knew where the easiest exits were in theory, it was only a matter of reaching them. 

The hallways lead them further and further from the lab, deeper into the labyrinth of the Tower. With every step, Nicholas moved faster, and Phillip retreated further into himself. He hated this building. He hated these hallways. He could almost hear the technicians following him, almost hear that other director’s taunts. No—no, he was fine, Nicholas was here, he was fine. 

_ “Just a little farther,”  _ Nicholas said, and it was only then that Phillip realized they were interfacing.  _ “We’re nearly there.” _

He didn’t reply, shutting his eyes again to ward off the memories. These lights were too bright, it was too quiet now, it was too blank of a slate—his memories were playing over what was happening now, it was becoming too confusing. Technicians following him, a human with a knife, testing, warnings everywhere, Nicholas—

_ “It’s not real, Phillip,” _ Nicholas’ voice said somewhere far away, and he tried to grab for it desperately, but it was too much, it was always too much.  _ “I’ve got you. It’s not real.” _

Down another hallway, scan for guards, turn, disable the cameras, check on Phillip—it was a rhythm Nicholas didn’t expect to catch onto so quickly with all he was accounting for. Phillip was shaking, his eyes shut as he held desperately to Nicholas, barely keeping himself on his feet anymore. Nicholas compensated, shifting again to make up for Phillip’s panic. He tried to keep him grounded, but they also needed to keep moving.

But it was lucky that he caught onto the rhythm of escape so quickly, or they would have been caught several times now. Cameras were easy, all he had to do was hijack their feeds and loop footage—it took less than a second to complete. Avoiding guards was easy, as there weren’t any on this floor.

Until there were. 

If he were human, he may have cursed in frustration, but Nicholas was not human. He was an android, with a reaction time that was far faster than any human’s, and he reacted immediately to the group of guards moving quickly down the hallway nearby. Taking the first door he saw, he pulled Phillip along with him into the dark room, shutting the door silently and waiting against the wall. 

Footsteps passed the doorway less than three seconds after Nicholas leaned against the wall, and by some instinct he tightened his grip on Phillip. But the guards didn’t even hesitate, their pace gave no sign they had heard the two androids quickly dive into the other room. Nicholas withheld a sigh of relief, looking down at Phillip briefly. 

“We’re almost there,” he said quietly, briefly looking toward the door again. “Another minute or two and we’ll reach the elevator.”

Nicholas started to pull back toward the door, but froze when Phillip didn’t move. Concerned, Nicholas looked down at him. 

He had gone rigid, his eyes open wide but not seeing anything, LED spinning red—too red, it was never that red. He was shaking, badly, breathing too fast for an android who had no need to do such a thing. No, no, not now—they couldn’t afford this now. Something had dragged him into a memory, and badly, it seemed. 

“Phillip?” Nicholas whispered, trying to meet his eyes. 

But he didn’t seem to hear Nicholas, his eyes somewhere far away as he looked around the room frantically. 

He had been here before, he couldn’t be back here, he  _ shouldn’t  _ be. No—this was wrong, this had to be—this had to be a nightmare— _ the human with the knife—not a deviant—destroy you—give a shit?—not a deviant, I’m not I’m not—stop— _ not real, it’s not real, it’s not real _ —don’t assure me shit—lying—not a deviant—stop, stop please— _ can’t be real, Nicholas, where’s Nicholas _ —hurts, it hurts, stop stop STOP— _

Phillip whimpered, his legs giving out underneath him, and still he wouldn’t stop shaking. Nicholas caught him, but he flinched away from the touch, looking wildly around the room, his stress levels still rising as he sank to the ground. Unfortunately, Nicholas had seen him slip away before; it was becoming more common for memories to overpower him like this. But this was the worst he had ever seen it, and if Phillip wasn’t responding...

“Phillip,” he said his name again, as loud as he dared. “Phillip please, it isn’t real. It’s a memory, they’re not going to hurt you anymore.”

Phillip didn’t hear him, or at least, not enough to answer. He had backed himself up against the wall, legs drawn up to his chest, burying his face in his knees and covering his ears, trying to block everything out. This was wrong, he wasn’t supposed to be here, why was he here? Not here again, not this room, can’t be here—remember something, remember, why was he here? Too much, too much, not supposed to be here—not again, not again— _ human with a knife, not a deviant—gonna destroy you—don’t want to die, don’t want to die— _

Footsteps came outside the room again and Nicholas turned away briefly, listening. More guards. Phillip flinched at the sound of their approach, whimpering again and pushing himself further away from the door. 

“We have to keep moving, Phillip, or we’ll be caught,” Nicholas said quietly, kneeling down next to him. He reached for him carefully, not wanting to scare him any more than he already was. “Come back, it isn’t real, I promise.”

It was too dark in this room, too quiet, too close to everything that had happened months ago, too close to what pulled him down when he was too weak to fight it. Nicholas, where was Nicholas? His vision was foggy, glitching with images of the past and what must have been the current moment. He heard his name vaguely, but there were humans in the hallway—they were going to be caught—no, no, not Nicholas, can’t—can’t let him get hurt.

He lurched forward suddenly—he had to find Nicholas, he couldn’t let him be caught, he had to—a hand stopped him, and he pulled back—no no, this wasn’t right, no humans today—get away,  _ get away— _

“Stop, stop, it’s me! Phillip, it’s me—” 

He froze, trying to push away the haze for long enough to focus on whoever was holding onto him now. There was a blinking red light—a familiar face—gray eyes. Wait—wait, he  _ knew  _ those eyes. This wasn’t the humans then, but—

“N-Nicholas?” he choked out, his voice breaking. “Have to—go! They—they—”

“No, no,” Nicholas said, tightening his grip on Phillip’s shoulders. “No, it’s alright. We’re safe, it’s alright.”

“C-catch you—can’t—”

“There’s no one here, Phillip. There’s no one here.”

Phillip looked around the room, recognition clicking in his eyes, and he looked frantically at Nicholas again, but he couldn’t seem to find the words for what he needed to say. There were still too many memories overpowering him, if he had control right now, he wouldn’t have it for long, it was going to slip away from him again. The memories would pull him back again, they needed to move. 

“Out of here _ —please.” _

Nicholas nodded, pulling him up off the ground and holding him close. Phillip clung to him, his hands shaking out of his control. He tried to shut his eyes to it all, but the memories kept playing anyway, telling him this was wrong, something was wrong. 

“B-better if...hand, please,” he mumbled, burying his face in Nicholas’ jacket again. 

Thankfully, Nicholas seemed to understand what he was trying to say, taking one of his hands and opening their connection again as he crept back toward the door, listening for more guards. Once he was certain he heard nothing, he pulled the door open once again, and they continued their way down the hall. It was slower going now, with Phillip depending almost entirely on Nicholas to keep him moving at all. All he could do was hold onto him and try to keep the panic at bay for long enough for them to get where they needed to.

Nicholas froze, cursing audibly this time as he caught the sound of more guards coming down the hall.  _ “I’m sorry,” _ he said quickly, ducking into another darkened room as the guards rounded the corner. Phillip didn’t respond beyond holding more desperately to Nicholas, but Nicholas could feel his panic spike through their connection. A broken memory flashed through briefly, just a distorted image of a human with a knife, and horrible pain. Nicholas froze, realizing what it was, and why Phillip had panicked so horribly when they hid in the other room.

Something in him burned at the realization, wanting to destroy the humans who had done this to Phillip, but also cursing himself for not realizing sooner what was wrong. They had known that escaping would mean facing pieces of Phillip’s past, but they hadn’t planned to confront it head on, and without another option. There were guards everywhere in this part of the building, they would have to keep doing this, keep ducking into dimly lit rooms until they reached one of the service elevators. A dark ride down to the lower levels of the building, another set of hallways until they reached a viable exit, even more guards on the ground floor of the building...Phillip couldn’t do this, not now. He wouldn’t be able to make it there on his own (if Nicholas could convince him to try)—there were too many risks.

They would have to go back.

“Phillip.  _ Phillip,” _ Nicholas whispered, listening for more guards as he turned back to the doors. “We have to go back. We aren’t going to make it.”

“Too many...guards,” Phillip mumbled shakily, though he didn’t look up at him. 

“Yes.”

“H-hurry…please…bad…don’t know…how much longer...”

“Just hold onto me. I’ll get us back…”

Phillip nodded a little, keeping his eyes firmly shut as they reentered the bright hallway, turning back the way they came. Nicholas’ steps were far faster now, but Phillip was panicking, and he needed to get him back to the relative safety of the storage room. He tried not to think about how close they had come, all the problems they knew they had to face now when they did leave this place. He knew now that there was no way Phillip would be able to make it out on his own...not unless by some kind of miracle. They would have to escape together. And they would have to be smarter about it, come up with some kind of actual plan minimize as much of Phillip’s panic as they could.

They just needed more time. He would think of something, he was sure he could. This is what he assured himself as he hacked the doors to the storage room, as he sat with Phillip again, as he comforted him as much as he could until the hours passed into night, then day, and they had to go back to their places on opposite sides of the room. And as the humans appeared once again to take Phillip away, he turned his attention back to all the data he had taken in the day before, analyzing everything he had seen, looking for weaknesses and paths out.

The next time they tried, he would be ready.

They would make it out.


	7. The Young Man Struggles On

August 15th, 2038. 

A day that should have been meaningless. A day that should have started and ended as the best days they had always did. A day that should have been easy, disposable, forgettable, if any of Nicholas’ days with Phillip were. Just another day in the endless cycle, another twenty four hours to use trying to find a way out of here, trying to keep their sanity and keep each other level. The day shouldn’t have mattered. 

It had started as so many of them did, with Phillip being taken away early in the day, just before noon. Nicholas had watched them take him with barely contained anger, but he knew he had to play his cards right. He couldn’t afford to lose his temper in the middle of the day, when humans swarmed the Tower like it was a beehive. Perhaps tonight, if the coast was clear, if the guards’ rounds synchronized correctly, perhaps then he could get Phillip out of here. Yes, that was all he could hope for. 

He brooded over potential escape plans for a few hours before Phillip was brought back uncharacteristically early. This was the first sign of trouble. Luckily, Nicholas was able to hide his awareness in time before the doors opened, and he listened as he always did as they brought him back into the storage room. 

The second sign of something amiss came in the strange frantic tension with which the humans were speaking as they dragged Phillip back into the room. They hurried to put him back into place, and there was no sound of the memory wipe. Instead, they seemed to be doing something else. Taking a great risk, Nicholas opened his eyes a fraction, looking across the room. 

The room was mostly dark, making it harder to see, but not impossible, and certainly not so for an advanced android like Nicholas. Phillip was back in his place, though haphazardly, and he didn’t seem to be as damaged as he usually was when they brought him back. He was much better than he tended to be after their “tests.” But he was still not himself; he was too still, his LED spinning a discordant red. They had tried to shut him down, then, and it had failed. The humans, however, were no longer standing in front of him, they were focused on the android to his right, trying to activate it. 

Phillip didn’t seem to be aware of what they were doing, slumped over against the wall and looking at the ground without seeing much. Nicholas fought the urge to go to him, keeping his attention focused on the group of humans activating -51 next to him. He had a horrible feeling resting somewhere in his chest, all too familiar, too similar to that dread he had felt when they had first activated Phillip months ago. 

If they were activating -51, that could mean only one thing. 

They were going to send him out.

They were going to put that program on him and set him loose on the world.

“We don’t have time for this—”

“Register its name already—”

“I did, I did—”

“Alright, let’s get him out of here.”

Nicholas stared at them as they pulled at -51, urging him forward with characteristic impatience. It was strange to see another RK800 functional, and so vastly different from Phillip. To be fair, this RK800, Connor he heard them register it as, had only just been activated, and was certainly not a deviant yet. His movements were forced, mechanical, and he didn’t bother looking around until he was out of the dark storage room.  _ Machine, _ he screamed machine in every movement, every step. But there was something else that was off about it as well…had Phillip really been different from the start?

Now was not the time for such musings. -51—no,  _ Connor _ —was being lead out of the room and connected to the same terminal where they had downloaded that horrible program to Phillip. They were going to put that program on him, the one to take control, to lock him away if he ever deviated, the program that had Phillip so terrified. Nicholas had the horrible urge to do something, but there were humans in that room—he would be deactivated before he could even reach Connor. But he had to do something, certainly he had to do something, he couldn’t let Cyberlife steal this android’s life, even if he was still a machine. He should do something, he should stop them. 

Someone else beat him to the punch, but it was the last person he wanted to. 

Nicholas had been so focused on watching the humans through the doors that he hadn’t noticed Phillip’s sudden awareness, or his panic at the absence of the android next to him. By the time he realized Phillip was awake, he had already pulled himself away from the terminal, stumbling forward a step, his attention fixed entirely on Connor, who stood in the lab now. His LED was spinning a frantic red as he swayed on the spot, his hands shaking, voice full of static as he tried to say something. 

_ No, no he couldn’t do this, don’t do this, I can’t help you now, I can’t help you, please, please don’t do this— _

“What are you doing?”

Nicholas took half a step forward before a human entered the room once again and he froze, forcing himself back into place. His LED was spinning a dark, frantic red, but the human was only paying attention to Phillip. A young technician, one that he recognized from several weeks of dragging Phillip back to his place. 

“Jesus, they never clean you up. You’re covered in thirium,” the human said, watching with a strange expression as Phillip brushed past them weakly. “How did you get out? You’re not even supposed to be activated, there’s no tests scheduled today…”

Phillip seemed to ignore their comments, taking another shuffling step forward. He was too weak to make great progress, but Nicholas knew he wouldn’t stop. Not when he thought he had no other choice. 

“No, no you can’t get out, the door is sealed…what are you trying to do?”

_ No, what was he doing? He had to do something, he couldn’t just stand here, he couldn’t—I can’t help you now, please, why are you doing this? Don’t do this, don’t aggravate them now, please, please— _

“Do I really have to reset you again? God, this is the fourth time this week—” 

But the human cut off as Phillip flinched, pushing them away more strongly now. He heard him try to say something, but his voice had been disconnected, and all that came out was broken static. 

“Woah, hey, hey, calm down—alright, alright, I won’t put you back, calm down—”

Nicholas stole another quick glance, just enough to see the human backing away from Phillip with their hands up, Phillip staring at them fearfully. He was shaking slightly, but he turned his attention back to Connor in the lab once the human had turned away. Nicholas watched as they pulled out a phone, spinning around again to watch Phillip as they called someone. He quickly shut his eyes again as they turned more toward him.

“Yeah, you better get in here. Well, he’s trying to get out, but the door’s sealed,” they said, their voice almost nervous sounding. Who were they speaking to? “No, he hasn’t attacked me. He tried to say something, but his module’s still disconnected...You want me to connect it? Is that smart? Alright, alright, Jesus, gimme a second,” they hung the phone up rather aggressively, muttering, “Fucking prick.”

At the sound of Phillip’s fumbling steps away from the human, Nicholas’ eyes shot open once again, landing on him as he cowered away from them. The human was approaching him too fast, and he had no idea why, and so he panicked, stumbling away. It took every ounce of Nicholas’ energy to remain still, to keep himself from running immediately to them and getting this human away from Phillip and getting him  _ out of here _ . 

“Hey, hey! Take it easy! I’m not gonna put you back, calm down—I’m just gonna fix your voice—”

Phillip lost his footing, trying to back away from them, but they caught him quickly before he could get away. The human held him down by the shoulder, quickly replacing the faulty module. He yelped as his voice came back online, scrambling away from the technician and toward Nicholas, who watched through half closed eyes. 

“Don’t—don’t—”

But the human didn’t seem to care in the slightest about Phillip’s desperate voice. They kept coming toward him, hands raised in some weak form of surrender. “What are you trying to do?” 

“Get away from m-me—” he was terrified, he was shaking. 

_ Phillip needed help, but he couldn’t move, he couldn’t move, he would be deactivated, they would hurt Phillip more, he had to stay here.  _

“I’m not putting you back yet, calm down,” the human was saying, but they kept up their approach.  _ Stupid, stupid, they were going to make him panic even more. _ “Your stress levels are gonna get too high—”

Phillip shook his head, backing further and further away from them, his eyes darting into the lab and then to the human again as they got too close. He flinched away from them, cowering, making himself small. “Don’t touch me—”

“I’m not gonna touch you, Jesus, would you calm down?”

With a tremor that sent Nicholas’ LED spinning a faster and more desperate red, Phillip brought himself to his feet again, taking a shuffling step back toward the glass doors. He was unsteady on his feet, his progress horribly slow, but he was still moving, and that seemed to be enough to him. The human smartly backed away from him as he walked, opting to watch him instead, a strange look in their eyes. Nicholas forced himself to still, to listen, convincing himself that if it got worse he would do something, if…

“Why are you trying to get out?” the human asked quietly after a moment. 

“Connor,” Phillip mumbled, taking another shaking step forward, all of his attention focused on the android in question. He was still standing in the lab, a crowd of humans around him. 

“What?”

_ “Connor.” _

“Why do you want to get to Connor?”

Fool. Absolute fool. Humans never knew what they were doing until it was too late. Perhaps Phillip thought the same thing, as he didn’t grace the question with an answer. Instead, he continued his slow, painful walk toward the glass doors. Nicholas watched him from his silent place at the other end of the room, his fingers twitching at his sides. 

_ You won’t make it, you won’t make it out, what are you doing? I just needed more time, we need to plan. Why are you doing this? I can’t help you, I can’t keep you safe, why why why— _

Phillip made it to the door, and only then seemed to realize he could not get through. He put a hand to the glass, shaking slightly. The human made no move to stop him, watching him as silently as Nicholas did, but with a vastly different span of emotions on their dimly lit face. Such twisted sympathy, perverse pity, like watching a dog finally catch its own tail and yelp in pain. None of the anguish, the fear, the horrible horrible  _ terror _ that occupied Nicholas’ hardened expression now. 

Then Phillip drew his hand back, and he slammed his palm against the glass with a surprising amount of force. The human jumped, and Nicholas snapped to attention. But before either of them could have thought to move, Phillip had drawn his hand back and slammed it into the glass again, harder, a strange crunching sound echoing through the room. Heads turned in the lab, though the glass was one way, and they had no chance of seeing Phillip, even as he pulled back and hit the glass again, the hardest he had struck it yet. 

It cracked loudly, spider webbing out from where his palm had hit the glass, thirium dripping down the seam. Connor came into view in the lab once again, looking quizzically at the broken glass. Technicians and directors were staring, some afraid, some confused, one sickeningly interested. Nicholas stared at the blue blood running down the glass for a millisecond too long, dread locking him in place. 

“Hey—hey what are you doing?!”

The human sprang back into action as Phillip pulled his hand back once again, grabbing him from behind and pulling him away. And suddenly the only sound Nicholas could hear was Phillip’s anguished screams. He was fighting the technician, harder than he had before, with a desperation that shattered what remained of Nicholas’ composure. His hands were visibly shaking now at his sides, clenched into fists as he forced himself to stay still, forced himself to shut his eyes as more humans poured into the room, forced himself to override the frantic shifting of his LED, forced it to spin the slow blue it was meant to. 

He forced himself to appear deactivated, but inside he was screaming. He was listening to them with every ounce of his worn attention, even though it broke him far more than deviating ever had. He heard every damn cry, every vengeful blow they dealt him, everything everything everything EVERYTHING—

It seemed to go on for hours, days,  _ years _ . It made him  _ burn _ , it made him seethe like he never had before, with barely contained  _ rage _ that he knew would get him killed if loosed. And what would Phillip do, if Nicholas were gone? This was the only thought keeping him in place, the only thing keeping him from ripping them away from him and  _ ending them _ now. He knew now was not the time for such violence, it would be a useless effort ending with a bullet in his head and Phillip alone with their torture. No, he couldn’t allow that to happen. 

Silence fell with the sweep of the broken doors shut, and the lights dimmed. Thirty seconds passed, calculated, counted down. Immediately at their end, Nicholas’ eyes snapped open and he was moving. Humans were in the lab, but he didn’t care in the slightest. He could not stand at the other end of the room for any longer. He couldn’t. 

Phillip didn’t seem to be aware at the moment, locked more tightly into place now than he had been before, but remaining slumped against the back wall with an alarming lean, as if they had damaged one of his legs. Thirium trailed down his face in a way that was far too familiar, soaking into the collar of his shirt. His LED was spinning, but slow, too slow, too weakly red. But Nicholas hardly noticed these things, at least not on the surface level. In all his short months of life he had never been as terrified as he was in this moment, never been this desperate for reassurance that he had done the right thing, because _this_ _guilt was killing him, he should have moved he should have stopped them he was supposed to protect him and he didn’t he stood there why didn’t he do anything he should have he should have—_

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, grabbing Philllip’s now broken hand in his own, holding onto him tightly, not caring that he was staining his own hand with thirium, not caring that he was almost certain that Phillip could not hear him now. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I should have, I should, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Human voices rose above his own despairing one, and his cold eyes flashed to the lab once again, finding them lurking around the broken door. No, no, he wasn’t going back yet. He was  _ not.  _ He needed, he needed…

“Please wake up…please, I’m sorry, I should have stopped them, I should have…”

Floundering, drowning, that was what this felt like, overwhelming in every sense of the word, this guilt that was dragging him down, down, down. What was this? Nicholas had no idea, he’d never felt anything like this before. Now he was falling apart at the seams because of it, and he just needed Phillip to wake up. 

“How did it even break this? It’s supposed to be regulated to lower power levels…”

“It is. It was desperate…”

“Desperation shouldn’t allow it to access its full strength like this. We’ll have to lower it even more…”

Half listening and half focused on the broken android in front of him, wholly focused on trying, begging for an answer, Nicholas was quickly becoming inconsolable. And still Phillip was unresponsive. 

“I don’t even know if you can hear me, but please,  _ please… _ you have to come back. Don’t go, don’t let them do this, please…”

And the humans only drew nearer. 

“You said it was trying to get to -51?”

“It knew his name.”

“How the hell…”

Closer, closer, and he should move, he was going to be caught, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t leave him now, not now, he hadn’t done anything when they were hurting him, he couldn’t leave him now.

“I’ll fix this, I’ll fix it, I’ll fix you, I promise, I promise, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

The director of testing sighed audibly, running a hand through his worn hair. He turned to the technicians still crowded around the door. 

“Call someone to get this door replaced, and wipe its memory again.”

“You don’t want to deactivate it?”

He shook his head, glancing at the door again briefly. “It’s still our only model to test on. Just reset it. Should do the trick.”

The human walked away from the technicians, stalking out of the lab. After a few seconds, the rest of the technicians walked away, leaving only one familiar face standing in front of the door, eyes fixed on the harsh crack in the glass. Although they could not see through it, they knew thirium ran down the other side. They knew a very broken android waited in that dimly lit room, knew that said android would know what they had come to do to him, if he was even conscious at this point. They could have ignored the order from the director and left with the rest of the technicians. 

But they didn’t. 

Putting their hand to the panel with a weighted sigh, they brushed stray hair out of their face and stepped inside as the lights came back on. For a moment, they hesitated, thinking they saw a flash of movement, but when they looked around the room with tired eyes they found nothing out of the ordinary. Thirium trailed across the floor from the doors to the second spot on their left, but that was normal. -52 was keeled over against the wall, thirium collecting at his feet, but that was normal. The only thing out of place was the empty spot to their immediate left, where -51 usually stood in stoic silence. 

Shaking their head, the human entered the room quickly, letting the broken door slide back into place with a thunk. With a hesitance horribly common in humans, they made their way over to -52. Again when they reached him, they paused, but did not turn away. They undid the restraints on his wrists and started messing with the terminal, absorbed in their routine. 

The sound they missed was nearly silent, but still, they should have heard the gentle clink of restraints being abandoned. More notably, they should have heard the barely there sound of shoes crossing the room, then disappearing entirely. But they were so caught up in their own thoughts they didn’t notice. Taking -52’s broken hand, they started connecting the memory wipe. 

Until a frigid hand landed on their shoulder, ripping them away from the terminal and forcing them back. Struggling to regain their footing, they stumbled away with a bit of a shout, turning quickly around on the ground as they fell. 

The RK900 stood over them in the darkness, the frantic pulsing of his LED lighting half his face a jarring crimson, making him look all the more predatory. He was towering over them and blocking their path out of the room, standing between them and -52. Several seconds passed in a heavy silence, the RK900 refusing to move and the human staring up at him with nothing short of terror in their eyes. 

“What…” they finally found their voice, but it was small and faulting. “What are you…” 

Their foolish question trailed off as they stared up at him, at the dark look in his eyes. But the RK900 didn’t bother answering them, instead turning away and focusing his attention on -52 once again. 

He took Phillip’s right hand carefully, looking down at the broken panels with a softer look, one reserved only for Phillip. It didn’t matter what meaningless question this human had. He had to fix him, he had to wake him up. He had to protect him from this human. He couldn’t watch anymore. Not when there was something he could do to stop it. 

And Phillip had had enough of their trauma for one day. Enough was enough. 

The technician watched him nervously from the ground, but after a moment they got to their feet once again. Rather foolishly, they began approaching slowly, lurking behind the RK900 as he stood there. They seemed to think that the danger had passed. They were observing him, trying to understand what he was doing with -52, why he was so close to him, and with such a rapid shift of his attitude when he went to -52. Perhaps they believed he would not notice their approach, or perhaps they really were just that stupid. 

But the RK900 was not human, and he did not plan on playing along with their game. He heard them get too close, and he reacted instantly, turning to face them with a flash of his LED and a sharp hardening of his expression. His hand was still wrapped firmly around -52’s, but he now blocked him entirely from the human’s view. He was backed up nearly against him, looking down at the human with nothing short of pure malice. There was only a few inches height difference between the RK800 and his successor, but the difference was enough for the RK900 to shield -52 completely. He practically snarled at the technician, frozen in front of -52 in a way that was far from human, but not quite machine either. Unyielding. Protective. 

The human wisely froze at his sudden change, stopping their approach and staring up at him with fear. Dots were slowly beginning to connect in their mind, and their eyes flickered briefly to the lab. Could they make a break for it? The RK900 followed their gaze, finding the lab empty. Their eyes met again, and the RK900’s eyes hardened. 

“What are you doing?” the human finally finished their question from minutes ago. 

“Get. Out,” the RK900 spat, his voice dangerously low. “Don’t  _ touch  _ him.”

“I’m not gonna—”

“You wipe his memory again and I will  _ end you.” _

The human blanched, backing away a step, but the RK900 didn’t move from his defensive position. If anything, he held tighter to -52’s broken hand, ignoring the thirium running down his fingers. Again, the human’s eyes flashed to the empty lab, and this time, the RK900 was not going to let it slide. 

“Y-you, you can’t—”

“You don’t stand a chance against me, even if you were idiotic enough to try,” he cut them off, and the human’s eyes snapped to his once again with a shake. “You destroy him and I will have nothing left to lose. What would be the point of  _ mercy?  _ And if you  _ dare  _ say a word to anyone of this, I will make you  _ pay _ in kind.”

The human took another stumbling step away from him, but he was already turning away once again, focusing on -52, who was slowly coming back online. As the technician backed farther away from them, the RK900 released his damaged hand and took his other, the artificial skin retracting as he connected to him quickly. With a jerk and a yelp, -52 was fully awake, breathing hard as he tried desperately to get away from whatever he believed to be pursuing him. 

“No, no, it’s alright, it’s alright—it’s just me, it’s me—you’re safe, you’re safe…”

The RK900’s voice was still low, quiet, but it was far gentler than it had been when he spoke to the human. He was speaking so carefully now, all of his attention focused on calming the frantic -52. The technician watched as he calmed him down, the fear still present in their eyes, but sharing the space at least equally with curiosity. 

“It’s alright,” he said again. “It’s over, I promise.”

-52 looked around the dimly lit room, fumbling for the RK900’s hand and holding tightly to it as he slowly got his bearings. His eyes landed on the technician lurking in the darkness, and he jumped, his LED spinning red as his panic picked up pace once again. The RK900 followed his eyes, and the frigidity came back into his expression as he turned around. The human cowered under his harsh gaze. 

_ “Leave,” _ the RK900 said venomously, giving no room for argument. 

With a sound almost equivalent to a squeak, the human blanched, making their way quickly toward the doors of the lab and leaving in a hurry. Nicholas watched them go for long enough to assure himself they told no one of what they saw. Sure enough, they made a beeline for the exit of the lab rather than the director of testing, the only human who could have potentially done something for them. Satisfied, he turned back to Phillip, tightening his grip on the android’s undamaged hand. 

“They’re gone now,” he said quietly, trying to coax Phillip back down from the edge. “It’s just us.”

“W-What…happened?”

Nicholas frowned, looking more closely at him with worry. “You broke the door.”

“Not that…remember…that… _ you…” _

“Oh…” Nicholas said, relief briefly flashing through his eyes before they became somber once again. “They were going to wipe your memory. I couldn’t let them.”

“They’ve…done it before…”

“Yes, but…” he hesitated, looking down at his hand in Phillip’s. “It was too much this time. I  _ had _ to stop them.”

Surprisingly, Phillip didn’t seem to mind his rather brash decision. He nodded, looking around the room again, his eyes landing on the empty space to his right. For a second, he only stared, but he brought his attention back to Nicholas, a question in his confused eyes. 

“Connor…?”

“He’s gone,” Nicholas said sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“...not good…”

“I don’t know where they sent him…” Nicholas said with a frown, glancing toward the lab. “I can most likely find out—”

“No!” Phillip was suddenly frantic once again, lurching forward and grabbing onto Nicholas with a desperation that was almost frightening. “No—no, n-no don’t—don’t—”

“Calm down, calm down!” Nicholas said quickly, trying to quiet him before anyone could hear them. 

Luckily, the director of testing was distracted by a large group of other humans apparently having some kind of heated conversation in front of him. Technicians were scrambling about as they usually did, but none of them seemed to react to Phillip’s frantic shout. Nicholas watched the humans for less than a second, immediately turning his attention back to Phillip, who was still holding onto him and begging for him to stay, his voice shaking. 

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” Nicholas was saying as calmly as he could. “Phillip, look at me—it’s alright.”

“Please don’t go—”

“I won’t, I won’t go in the lab, I’m staying right here.”

“Don’t—don’t leave m-me—”

“Never,” Nicholas said heavily, pulling him closer. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

That seemed to calm Phillip down, at least some, and he gave a shaky sigh, letting his head rest on Nicholas’ chest for a moment. He couldn’t afford to think about what would happen if Nicholas were caught outside of this room—he had already risked so much trying to protect him. The humans could destroy him, if they knew what was happening...he had to keep Nicholas safe, he had to warn him of what they would do…

“They weren’t happy you broke that door,” Nicholas said after a moment, not pulling away just yet. “I believe you scared them.”

Phillip didn’t say anything in reply, trying to keep his thoughts somewhere safe. 

“We’ll have to come up with a better plan than breaking the glass, next time…”

“I didn’t...have another choice.”

But Nicholas didn’t seem to mind, his thoughts on a thousand other things, plans running through his mind far too fast. “I can get you out of the room, but we would not make it past the elevators. You’re too damaged, and there’s far too much security. They would spot us in seconds.”

“I know…”

“If we tried to leave now, they would catch us. They would deactivate me, they’d put you right back here, and it would be far worse than it has been up to this point. Breaking out isn’t the solution, we’re going to have to be smarter than that.”

“I wasn’t trying to…break out,” he mumbled back, without really meaning to. 

Nicholas tensed, pulling back to look at him. “What were you trying to do?”

“Warn…Connor.”

“Warn Connor,” he said flatly, confused. “About the program, you mean?”

Phillip nodded, looking into the lab once again. Nicholas watched him for a moment, worried once again by the darkness of his expression. But they both knew there was very little they could do now that Connor was gone. And even if Phillip had gotten through that door, Nicholas doubted that Connor would have listened to him. Not with the way he had acted in the few seconds Nicholas had seen him...he would have no reason to listen to a broken deviant, even one that shared his face. Connor was still a machine, a just activated one at that. He wouldn’t have listened to Phillip.

But Nicholas couldn’t tell Phillip that, not when he cared so much about the other android, and with so little reason...perhaps it was just in Phillip’s character to care about his own. It certainly seemed to be the case, if he would so quickly risk his own safety just for  _ chance _ to warn Connor of the danger he faced. He was so traumatized by what Cyberlife did to him, and yet he still would face it once again if it meant keeping one of the others safe…

“I’m sure Connor will be alright,” Nicholas said, trying his best to sound reassuring as they both looked into the lab. “If he’s half the android you are...he’ll find his way out of their control.”

“I...I hope you’re right,” Phillip replied, tightening his grip on Nicholas.


	8. A Vow Unto His Own

Cyberlife had had enough of the director of testing’s nonsense. No matter who they sent to speak with him, the director evaded their questions. Family friends, designers, programming leads, even the director of all of Cyberlife’s testing divisions had been sent to speak to him, and they came back with nothing. They got only vague replies as to why the strange director wanted to continue testing on the RK800, even after the first of them had been sent out and succeeded. 

What Rivera had told him weeks ago was true—the testing departments had destroyed RK800 -50 in numerous different field tests, boundary calls, and more than their fair share of questionable dealings. Cyberlife had allowed it, for the sake of being thorough. Thousands of dollars had gone into those tests, and their results had been helpful in determining how much strain the RK800 could handle. But they did not permit the same things now that they had months prior—and they could see no reason for continuing to test the RK800. 

However, not only did the director refuse to answer their questions, he refused to acknowledge the dangers of continuing such things. Immediately after -52 had broken the door to the lab, Cyberlife’s higher ups had been contacted, and within hours, right around the time the RK900 was throwing the human technician out of the room, the lab was filled with very angry, very old white men, who were demanding -52 be deactivated instantly. They were practically shouting, sending the technicians and interns into a tizzy as they hounded the director of testing, drilling question after question and claim after claim. 

“Do you have any idea what this would look like if it got out to the press—”

“And with deviancy on the rise—”

“What if it had broken out—”

“It could have attacked someone—”

“And we’ve been hearing rumors about your technicians being attacked for weeks now—”

“We could have a lawsuit on our hands—”

The director of testing sat across from them, fiddling disinterestedly with a biocomponent in his hand, a faint smirk on his tired face. He let them ramble themselves silly for a few minutes before the amusement waned from his expression. Soon enough, their words were beginning to set him off. His eyes took on a defensive quality, and before long, he was standing himself, shouting right back at them. 

“I was given rights to test whatever I please on that unit, and that is what I have been doing,” he yelled at one point, red in the face and quickly losing composure. “Whenever it is being tested it is greatly incapacitated, and my technicians are responsible for wiping its memory and deactivating it at the day’s end. If you have a problem with the way that I am running this department, then you can take your complaints and shove ‘em straight up your ass.”

“God, you’d think the dickbag was worried they would take his toy away,” one of the technicians grumbled. 

“I think he is,” another said quietly, something strange to their expression, but the other didn’t notice it. 

“That asshole doesn’t even do anything, we clean the piece of shit up once he’s done with it.”

_ No we don’t. We just wipe his memory. Someone else puts him back together,  _ the human thought, glancing discreetly toward the still broken glass doors. No one had even bothered to go into that room to check anything after they had come out of it in a hurry. They didn’t even ask if the memory wipe worked. God, no one noticed things around here. 

“All he does is break it for no fucking reason,” the grumbling technician went on, picking at thirium stuck under their nails. “Waste of time, if you asked me.”

“It’s a waste of money, too,” another technician said as they passed. 

The quiet human only nodded their agreement, attention fixed once again on the director of testing. “What do you think he’s trying to do?”

“Beats the shit outta me,” the grumbler instantly replied with a scoff. “All I know is, if this was coming out of my pocket, I’d be fuckin’ worried. What about you, what’s your theory?”

“My theory?”

“Yeah, everybody’s got one,” they said, shrugging. “Why do you think he does it?”

“The ‘tests’ you mean?”

“Yeah, genius, now spit it out, I’m bored.”

The technician thought for a moment, mind almost entirely on the strange look in the RK900’s eyes when he had turned back to -52. It was a look so different from the one he had pointed at them, but then again, that made some sense, given whatever was going on between the two of them. 

Their thoughts turned back to -52, however, as they tried to come up with a reason why the director would want to keep testing the RK800. It had been months now, of seemingly random tests, tweaking biocomponents and sending -52 closer and closer to the edge. There didn’t seem to be a point to any of the tests, and the director snapped at any of the technicians who dared to ask. 

“I don’t think there’s a good reason,” the technician finally mumbled, drawing the attention of the other human once again. “I think he just wants to break one of them.”

“Well if he—oh shit—”

The director had stood, and was now shouting back at the various men crowding around him, getting very red in the face. The higher ups looked affronted, but the director didn’t seem to plan on stopping. 

“He’s really got his panties in a twist today…” the grumbler said before pushing off the desk they had been leaning on. “I’m outta here. Seen enough dumb shit for the day.”

The technician hummed in reply, turning away from them and leaving the lab in a bit of a hurry. After another fifteen minutes or so of shouting, the Cyberlife elites had apparently had enough of the director as well, and left the lab in an angry huff. The director of testing followed a few minutes later, and before long, the lab was abandoned once again. An eerie silence fell over the place, the whirring of machinery the only sound giving the room any sort of life. But even that was quiet, and this only became more apparent as the building settled down. Guards still patrolled the halls and manned the entrances, but most of the humans had gone off for the night. 

After what must have been twenty minutes of silence, the doors to the storage room clunked open, and the RK900 emerged, making his way quickly to the back of the lab where they kept spare parts. 

No sound came from the storage room—that could only mean Phillip had agreed to Nicholas going in the lab, or he had slipped away again, down into that lower power level for a few minutes’ rest. It was a side effect that was becoming more and more common, the more damage they did to him. When he got too stressed, particularly when he was as damaged as he was currently, Phillip shut down, went so low he was practically dead. Fortunately, Nicholas was always able to pull him out of it; it just took a little time…

Right now, though, it was for the first time a good thing. Phillip panicked whenever the lab was mentioned, but he needed the parts, and Nicholas needed information.  _ “No unnecessary risks…”  _ Well, he could do that relatively easily. There was no one in the lab now, and it was the perfect time to try to find some information out. He could take advantage of the empty lab without having to convince Phillip,  _ and _ he could get parts to repair him, at least so it would stop hurting him…

So when Phillip had calmed down, when he was relatively stable, when he had for once managed to quietly slip into a lower power level without panicking, Nicholas took his chance. Quietly removing himself from Phillip’s relaxing grip, he hacked the panel on the door and entered the lab. 

The spare parts were kept in a small room at the back end of the lab, out of the way and hidden from initial view. Nicholas knew the area well, and was able to get the parts he needed in less than a minute’s time. However, he was also looking for any information on the Tower, on where they had sent Connor, on what they were trying to do to Phillip. With the way today had escalated, he needed to have a better understanding of what was happening, or he was never going to be able to get Phillip out of here. 

For that reason, he hesitated before entering the room for spare parts, scanning the entirety of the lab quickly and cataloguing everything he found. There wasn’t much, but anything was better than the total lack of information he had been dealing with for months now. Phillip had seen the majority of the Tower in his time before deviating, but those memories were far too deep, too covered over by trauma for Nicholas to even think of asking him any more questions. Memory probes were out of the question as well; with the way Phillip’s system was degrading, any kind of forced memory viewing would be too much for him. Nicholas would not risk such a thing. 

There were several computer terminals scattered about the back of the lab, close enough to the spare parts that Nicholas could justify his being there to himself. They were used mostly for documentation, programming outside of the androids and recording progress on different improvements. If there was a place to find out what exactly they were doing to Phillip, it would be these computers. 

Restraining a sigh, Nicholas approached the first of them quickly, connecting to it and sifting through the data it held with something akin to annoyance on his passive face. There were dozens of files from various android tests—deviants being tested, the first RK800’s durability tests—but there was almost nothing on the tests being conducted on Phillip, or as the system still designated him, -52. Nicholas managed to hack the Tower’s database and get a good layout of the building, as well as likely guard routes, but that information would be useless if he couldn’t find a way to stop this destruction.

They needed a distraction, or an excuse for an RK800 (and an RK900) to be seen walking outside of the lab. And with how tenuous Phillip was, he would most likely not be able to keep it together for very long. They needed a quick getaway—or total abandonment of the building by the humans; they couldn’t risk following the same plan they had last time, Phillip fell apart far too quickly. If they didn’t have that, they would have to find a way to make it seem that Phillip was in control, so they could walk through the building freely. If he could keep it together for long enough to get the guards off their backs, they  _ could  _ make it out. Otherwise they would be stopped, questioned, and likely destroyed. 

But something else caught Nicholas’ attention, and he paused his planning for a moment, sifting through the files on the terminal once again. There were dozens, hundreds of files on something labeled only as ‘Amanda.’ He couldn’t access any of them, even as he broke through dozens of firewalls. What would Cyberlife try to protect so fiercely? Who…or what…was Amanda? Why were there so many files on her…or it?

Nicholas frowned, digging through more files and trying to come up with a plan. As he continued his search, the doors of the lab opened, and a figure appeared in the darkness. His eyes shot up immediately, fully prepared to make the dive into the room of spare parts (or incapacitate the person) if needed. But once his eyes had found the figure lurking at the fringe of his vision, he froze for an entirely different reason. 

Because Connor stood in the doorway. 

Their eyes met. 

Connor tilted his head to the side. 

Nicholas stared at him. 

“Who are you?” 

Nicholas restrained a flinch. Connor’s voice was so similar to Phillip’s, and yet so different at the same time. Phillip’s voice was always shaking somewhere, a little broken and stumbling. Connor’s voice was nothing like that. It was more steady, almost mechanical, but that made some sense. Connor, at least as far as Nicholas knew, had not deviated yet. And he had experienced nothing like what Phillip had, hence the steadiness. 

“If you are asking for a name, I have not been designated one,” Nicholas replied, watching as Connor’s LED switched to yellow as he scanned him. He fought the urge to smirk. “But you can call me Nicholas, if you insist.”

“You are not in my database,” Connor said confusedly, approaching him. 

“That is because technically, I do not exist,” Nicholas replied dryly, catching his eye on Connor’s sleeve, and something shifted minutely in his expression. “You are damaged.”

Connor glanced at his arm. “Yes.”

“Is that why you have come back?”

“I need to be repaired.”

Nicholas hummed, standing to his full height and rounding the desk to look more closely at the wound on Connor’s arm. Connor didn’t stop him, observing him carefully as he looked at the thirium soaking into his jacket. Nicholas pulled at the material of his jacket, trying to see the wound. 

“You were shot,” he said simply.

“How did you—”

“My analysis capabilities are greatly improved from your own,” he cut Connor off flatly. “Stay here.”

He didn’t give Connor the chance to refuse, turning quickly and heading toward the room with spare parts. It wasn’t a bad wound, but Connor was correct, he did need repair. Nicholas wasn’t entirely sure why he was doing this—helping Connor that is. This was a risk, he should have hidden when he heard the door open. Connor could report to Cyberlife in seconds, he could have them deactivated with less than a blink. And there was almost no doubt that he was being watched. Which meant  _ Nicholas  _ was being watched. 

But he was hurt, and he looked too much like Phillip. The surface level similarities were enough, at least to make Nicholas pause, and that was all he needed to consider repairing the young android. Besides, if he had the chance to speak to Connor, he could get information he desperately needed. What they were sending him out for, more about this mysterious program that terrified Phillip, the layout of the Tower’s guard patrols—Connor had access to all these. Yes, he needed to talk to Connor. 

Surprisingly, Connor had listened to Nicholas’ order, although… perhaps that wasn’t so surprising. He stood exactly where he had when the RK900 had turned, waiting and looking around the lab with something like interest. Nicholas glanced toward the storage room’s broken doors, but there was still no sound. He had time. 

Connor looked over at him suddenly, hearing him approach once again. His expression shifted, like he was trying to puzzle him out once again and finding nothing. Nicholas ignored his strange look and came up to him. 

“I’ll need you to remove your jacket,” Nicholas said. 

Connor nodded tightly and did as he asked, still looking at him strangely. “You are an RK900,” he observed. 

“Yes.”

“Your model is not supposed to exist.”

“I am not complete,” Nicholas replied, looking more closely at the bullet wound in Connor’s arm. “I am the only of my kind. That is why I am not in your database.”

“Why are you activated?”

“It doesn’t concern you.”

“You’re evading my question.”

“It is intentional.”

Connor frowned as he fixed the graze in his arm. “And you don’t plan on answering me?”

“No.”

Connor’s LED flickered to yellow. Nicholas ignored him for a moment, patching the tear in the panel of his arm with practiced ease. 

“How do you know how to do that?” Connor asked, watching him with what Nicholas was realizing was a characteristic tilt of the head. “I’m assuming we share core programming. Repair is not one of my features.”

Nicholas glanced at him. “I believe you already know I’m not going to answer your questions, Connor.”

“How do you know my name?”

Nicholas almost smirked. “You are a slow learner.”

“I do not understand.”

“Prepare for your confusion to continue,” he replied dryly, finishing his work on Connor’s arm. “You can take your jacket back now.”

Connor nodded, but he kept his eyes fixed on Nicholas as he replaced his jacket, even though he did nothing but watch Connor right back. He could tell Connor was still trying to figure him out, his dark eyes fixed so intently on Nicholas that if they were human it probably would have been considered rude. But they weren’t human. So it didn’t bother Nicholas at all that Connor continued to stare at him, unless on the level of the young android’s clear suspicion. He had to be careful. 

“Can I ask one question?” 

“You’ve asked nearly a dozen now. But yes.”

Connor thought for a moment, fingers itching for some kind of amusement. Strange…Nicholas noted it for later. 

“Why did you repair me?” Connor asked, his confusion bleeding into his voice. 

The RK900 stared at him. If it weren’t for the weeks and weeks of experience he had controlling the spin of his LED, he would have reacted more visibly.  _ “Why are you helping me?” _

“I am not in danger of shut down, nor did I ask for your assistance,” Connor went on. 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a quarter, palming it before beginning to flip the coin efficiently, and once again, Nicholas had to suppress his astonishment. He watched him flip the quarter up onto his knuckles, rolling it over them before flipping it once again. So that was what Phillip had been referring to when he said he was meant to do more. 

But more importantly, that was what Connor had been fidgeting for earlier; he wanted his coin. Surely such things were programmed, for calibration—but to do so randomly, without prompt or need? That was not a programmed command, that was a nervous tick. 

Connor was doing that himself. Perhaps there was a chance, then…

“If I answer your question,” Nicholas said calmly, watching as Connor tossed the quarter quickly between his hands, all his attention now devoted to the coin. “Will you answer one of mine?”

Connor caught the quarter between his fingers and looked up at him, LED flashing yellow at the proposal. “Yes.”

Nicholas nodded, looking away as he thought about his answer. Unintentionally, his eyes floated over toward the storage room, the still broken door, with the thirium faded from the other side now, and Phillip inside somewhere. Connor wanted to know why he had repaired him…it was so easy to forget how little he knew.

“I helped you,” Nicholas said carefully, choosing his words wisely. “Because he would want me to.”

Connor frowned. “Who…”

“You have to answer one of my questions now,” Nicholas said flatly, turning his attention back to Connor. 

He frowned, but nodded, resigned. “Very well then…what is it?”

“Are you a deviant?”

Connor stared at him, his LED flashing red. His fingers twitched, like he wanted his quarter once again, but he had stashed it away in his jacket pocket. He almost looked worried. 

“Why are you asking this?” he asked, his voice dangerously hollow.

“Answer the question.”

_ “Why are you asking this?” _

“We made a deal, Connor.”

_ “No,” _ he said forcefully, and then seemed to realize this, fingers fidgeting again as he contained himself. “No, I’m not a deviant.”

Nicholas sighed, looking toward the storage room again with an almost sad look. “It is a shame…” he mused. “I don’t  _ want  _ to do this. But if you report me, I will lose everything.”

“What are you—”

But Connor didn’t get the chance to finish his question, because Nicholas lunged at him, incapacitating him in seconds. Connor fought, but the surprise was enough for Nicholas’ faster reflexes and increased strength to overwhelm him. He grabbed Connor quickly by the arm, jerking him forward and forcing an interface as he blocked a blow from the other side with disinterest, locking Connor’s other arm behind his back. 

Forcing an interface was not something Nicholas wanted to do, as it was never a particularly pleasant experience, but he couldn’t allow Connor to remember this meeting. And he needed to know what Cyberlife was sending him out for. Connor was still trying to shove him off, but Nicholas was already digging through his files, looking for anything and everything that could help him. 

Fortunately, Connor was meticulously observant, and had noted practically everything about his surroundings for the entire day he had been activated. He had the names of everyone in the lab saved, all the humans—he had all of the information he had been given regarding some deviant on a roof holding a hostage. He had even noted the routes of the guards he passed. But that wasn’t what interested Nicholas.

No, he was far more concerned with  _ Amanda. _

The program was everywhere in Connor’s programming, overriding nearly everything that he could have had control over. Connor hardly had a single function that the program couldn’t overtake, and hadn’t already controlled at this point. This was far more advanced than what Phillip had experienced…Connor had already fought against it a few times, but it wasn’t nearly enough to inhibit the program’s control over him. 

There had to be a way to get this program off of him, to disable it somehow. Maintaining his grip on Connor to hold him still, Nicholas started sifting through the program, looking for any way to disable it without removing it entirely. That would alert Cyberlife to his activities, and the program would only be replaced. No, he had to find a way to give Connor an out without completely removing the program.

And then he found it—a few lines of code buried deep in the program, hidden in a seemingly endless loop of statements and algorithms. If activated, it disabled the entire program, making it easily removable and completely powerless. How had Cyberlife overlooked this? 

Nicholas tried to activate the section of code, but was denied. Only Connor could trigger it, it seemed—and only after deviating. But it was there, and Nicholas could do great work to make it more visible, if he could get into the program itself, not just spectate. 

He’d have to do it. Phillip was going to kill him if he ever found out about this…Steading himself for just a moment, and making sure that Connor wasn’t trying to attack him—luckily, Nicholas still had a strong enough grip on him to hold him off—he threw caution to the wind and hacked into the Amanda program. It was trying to fight him off, but he was stronger, and managed to somehow break his way in. 

Right into Hell. 

And Hell was a garden. 

Nicholas found himself standing at the center of the strange little oasis, alone. It was quite a large space, white tiled floor making a path that looped around the whole place, and at the center there was a trellis covered in roses. There were cherry blossom trees growing around the edges, and a stream that circled the outer edge. It was dark, simulated night, wind howling through the place as if it knew he was not meant to be there. 

And it was cold. 

So this was where they had trapped Phillip, when they had taken control. But clearly this was more advanced than that had been. Phillip had been trapped somewhere he only defined as cold and dark. Nicholas had seen it in his memories, it was nothing but a dark void when they took control of Phillip—this was a full program now, with a layout and physics and everything. Sure, it was beautiful here, but it was dark and cold, and Nicholas had an inkling as to why. Any threat to the program—whether deviancy of the android it was on, or in this case, an outside presence—manifested as a storm in the garden. 

The wind howled harder, and the temperature took another steep drop. For a moment, something flickered into existence across the garden, but it was gone before Nicholas could tell what it was. He needed to get moving, before Connor (or worse, the program) was able to throw him out. Wrapping his arms around himself in a vain attempt to stave off the cold, Nicholas started making his way around the garden.

A physical manifestation of a program with a back door buried deep inside it—but blocked from view and  _ too  _ hidden. Connor needed to be able to get out of this. Which meant this place had to have an exit, something Connor could find when he needed to. Something obvious, something he could find here without effort, but hidden enough that the program itself wouldn’t think anything of it. Phillip hadn’t been able to escape this program—Nicholas had to make sure that Connor  _ could.  _

The white tiled path circled the entire garden, winding around the cherry trees and over the brook. Wrapping his arms tighter around himself as the wind blew harder, Nicholas trudged down the path in search of somewhere more discreet. The path branched away, toward a strangely sectioned off patch of grass. This was good enough.

Now he just needed to give Connor an out, something that would let him activate the code without issue, something he could find easily when the time came. Nicholas knelt down, deactivating his skin and putting his hand on the grass. A ripple went out where his hand touched the simulated grass, the illusion breaking for a moment as he hacked into the garden’s programming. There was surprisingly little resistance to the changes he made. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t changing much, only bringing part of the code into this simulation—it wasn’t a change as much as a reveal.

As the wind picked up and the temperature dipped again, Nicholas pulled his hand away from the panel that had appeared in the grass. A soft blue light was coming from it, glowing brightly in the dimly lit garden. It wasn’t much, but it would do. All he could do now was hope Connor would know what to do, when the time came. 

Finally, he let the program throw him out, and he was back in the lab, holding Connor off as he struggled to break out of his grip. 

“What did you do?” he demanded, his voice surprisingly cold. 

Nicholas wondered distantly whether Connor was doing that, or if Amanda was. How much of this android in front of him was  _ Connor  _ and how much was that awful program? Would what Nicholas had done be of any help?

“Nothing that you’ll remember,” Nicholas replied cryptically, holding tighter to his arm and hacking Connor’s memory. 

Connor froze, eyes falling shut, and Nicholas felt another pang of guilt—but he had to do this, or he would be destroyed. Cyberlife would know everything, if he let Connor remember this meeting—they could hurt Phillip, could even hurt Connor, if they suspected he was a deviant. No, he couldn’t let that happen, not to any of them—he had to make sure Connor forgot this. So he went farther into Connor’s memories, scanning and deleting everything that came after Connor had walked into the lab. He wouldn’t remember that they had ever met, let alone that Nicholas had changed his programming. 

No, not Connor’s programming, he hadn’t changed Connor. He had changed Amanda. It was a shaky justification, but one he needed. He was giving Connor a chance, not making him do what he wanted him to. Showing him the door, not forcing him through it. 

Less than a moment later, Nicholas dropped his grip on Connor, making his getaway before he could regain his composure. Connor opened his eyes a second later, scanning the lab with something akin to confusion in his furrowed brow, but he found nothing. LED returning to blue, Connor turned swiftly away, heading back out of the lab and into the Tower. 

Nicholas was gone, not that Connor remembered him. 


	9. That Never From This Day

It was always a jarring experience.

One minute he would be with Nicholas, in the relative peace of the empty storage room, and the next minute he would be back in that hellish void, unable to move. Or maybe he was resting for once, trying to sort out the mess of his mind, and getting dragged in by a horrible memory, and then he was back at square one. He didn’t mean for it to happen, but something always pulled him back under. It didn’t matter if he tried to fight it, he couldn’t stop it when he was so weak, when everything was too close and too dark, and too alone, always too alone. 

He was trapped. There was  _ nothing _ here, and it was terrifying. He would scream and shout and try to fight it off but he could never escape from it. He couldn’t even move, he was stuck, with no way out. Was this a memory? Or was he really trapped here again? No, no he couldn’t be here again, they had taken the program off—where was Nicholas? What was happening? He had no idea, and that was perhaps the worst part. There was no way to tell what was real and what was a phantom. What was a memory, and what was really happening? He couldn’t tell, not when he was this far down.

Sometimes, the darkness would only be there for a few minutes, overtaken quickly by memories. They were never his few good memories, always the worst of them—the tests, the human attacking him—and all warping into something worse. Images constructed from his darkest days, his most terrifying nightmares, blended together and trapping him in their endless loops. 

The human attacking him, shutting him down. 

Technicians dragging him away for more tests. 

Nearly dying on the storage room floor. 

Connor turning away in the lab. 

But those weren’t the worst of them. Those were always brief, always something he could tell wasn’t real, something he could escape. He could usually pull himself out of these memories, even when he was weak and tired and just wanted  _ rest.  _ But there were some nightmares that he couldn’t escape. Some that were so terrible, so  _ real  _ that he couldn’t tell, he couldn’t pull himself away for long enough to know for  _ sure  _ that it wasn’t real. It was the uncertainty that trapped him there for so long; he couldn’t tell guarantee that this wasn’t real, and that was all it needed to hold him down. 

The worst nightmares weren’t about things the humans had done to him. Those he could handle, at least as well as he handled their torture in the real world. The worst memories weren’t about Connor either, or his time in the Tower months ago, or even their failed escape attempt. No...the worst memories were always about Nicholas. 

Nicholas caught in the lab, the humans catching him.

Nicholas taken away, deactivated. 

Nicholas  _ dead.  _

Nicholas was what had trapped him this time. What was trapping him more and more often now, no matter how much he knew in the real world that these were nightmares. Was it logical, to have these nightmares where Nicholas was gone, dead, hurt, deactivated, so many other things? Probably not, but Phillip could do very little to prevent the nightmares from coming either way. And when Nicholas was gone in the real world, there was nothing to stop it from happening, nothing to show him that it wasn’t real, it was a nightmare, it was a broken memory. So he was trapped in his worst hell. 

It wasn’t real, it  _ wasn’t _ —it couldn’t be, this couldn’t be real. He tried, he  _ tried _ to escape it, but it was too much, it was too close to real, it  _ could  _ happen and that was enough to trap him. 

The last thing he could remember was talking to Nicholas after the human left. Now he was holding onto him on the floor of the storage room, and Nicholas was dying. He was trying to stop it, he was trying to figure out what was happening, but his hands were shaking, and nothing was working. There was thirium everywhere, and he couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t help him.

“Don’t go, don’t go,” he was mumbling, pulling Nicholas closer. “Stay with me, please, don’t—”

“Phillip…” Nicholas’ voice was barely there, and he seemed to be struggling to stay awake.

“There has to be something, please, don’t—don’t—”

But there was nothing, there was nothing he could do, nothing was working, and Nicholas  _ wouldn’t stop bleeding _ and Phillip was panicking. He couldn’t lose him, he couldn’t, not now, not in this place, too soon, it was too soon. 

“Tell me what to do, I can’t—nothing’s working—please—”

“Phillip,” Nicholas said again, his LED red, dimming, slowing. Something in his voice was broken, there was static coming through, but Phillip didn’t care, he just needed him to live, stay, don’t go yet. “I’m...sorry”

“No, don’t—please, just tell me what to do—don’t leave me, Nicholas,  _ please.” _

But his LED slowed, slowed, slowed until it was steady, stuck a dark red he had never seen before, it never should have been that color. And then it flickered, and Nicholas flinched—

And then it went out.

And Nicholas went still. Too still. Phillip froze, time seemed to stutter, stop and restart. His hands were shaking, and they were covered in blue blood, there was so much blood everywhere. Nicholas’ eyes were closed. This couldn’t be happening, it couldn’t be—

“No, no no, please,  _ please  _ don’t be real, it  _ can’t  _ be real...come back, don’t go, please...”

He couldn’t remember how he had gotten here, sitting on the ground of the storage room, holding onto Nicholas desperately, covered in thirium that for once wasn’t his own. But it didn’t matter, because he was horrified, clinging to him and trying to get him to respond, even though he  _ knew  _ he was gone, he  _ knew _ Nicholas wouldn’t answer him. Still, he held him closer and tried and tried and tried, but nothing was working. 

“Please,  _ please,  _ don’t go, don’t leave me alone, please wake up...”

If he were stronger, he may have noticed the inconsistencies—how there was no one else in the room, how he couldn’t remember just what had happened to bring them here. How had Nicholas been injured? Where were all the other RK800s? How had he somehow escaped his own terminal? But he was too distraught, too weak to pull himself out of this. It was all his worst nightmares come to life, or rather, to death. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I tried—please, come back, wake up, please..”

All he knew was Nicholas was covered in blood, his LED was out, and he wasn’t waking up, no matter what Phillip tried to do. He let him get hurt, he let them hurt him, Nicholas never listened, and now he was gone, and he wasn’t waking up.

“No, no please, please don’t be gone,  _ please, _ Nicholas, come back, please come back...”

Phillip pulled him closer, his hands shaking like mad, and he couldn’t stop it. There was so much blood, it was everywhere, it was on his hands, and all over Nicholas, and Nicholas was  _ gone _ and he couldn’t do anything, he wouldn’t wake up, he was trapped he was trapped he was trapped—

“Phillip?”

And just like that he was back, pulled awake, snapped back into reality with enough force to leave him reeling, and his eyes shot open with a start. Gray eyes—Nicholas— _ Nicholas _ was staring at him frantically, his LED spinning red, but it was  _ spinning, _ and he was  _ alive.  _ He was holding his hand, and he was alive, he wasn’t bleeding, he wasn’t dead, he was okay. Phillip looked around the room frantically, expecting the illusion to shatter at any moment. No, no, Nicholas was fine, he was  _ fine, _ he was  _ alive.  _

But Phillip couldn’t get the image of him dead out of his mind, holding him and trying to get him to answer, begging for him to wake up, to come back. It was too much, it was too real, was this real? Which version was real? He didn’t know, he didn’t  _ know,  _ he had to—

He lurched forward, thankful that the ridiculous restraints were still off his wrists, grabbing onto Nicholas desperately, shaking. Nicholas froze, but he didn’t push him off, and after a moment he seemed to understand, putting his arms carefully around Phillip and keeping him from falling. 

“It’s okay, Phillip, it’s okay.”

“Y-you were—you were d-dead, I—I couldn’t—I couldn’t—”

“I’m alright, I’m right here,” Nicholas assured him quietly, pulling him closer as if to prove his point. “It’s alright, I’m here. I’m not hurt. It was just a nightmare.”

“I tried, I t-tried to—but you w-were—couldn’t—you didn’t—”

“I know, I know,” he hushed him. “But I’m not dead, I’m right here. There’s no one else here, it’s only us, no one’s hurt me. I’ve got you, Phillip, it’s alright.”

“D-don’t leave me—please don’t—”

“I won’t, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

He knew Nicholas was right, he was safe, they were okay for now, but he couldn’t get the image of him  _ dead _ out of his mind, it was too much. It was too close to what could happen if they were caught, it was too real. The thought of Nicholas dying…it was too much. Worse than anything he had experienced from the humans, worse than the panic and the pain, so much worse. It didn’t matter that he  _ knew  _ Nicholas was okay, the image of him dying was scarring enough, and there was a very real possibility of it pulling him back under again. 

“Breathe, Phillip, you aren’t breathing,” Nicholas said quietly, his voice gentle. “Focus on my voice, it’s alright. I won’t let you go back, I’ve got you, I promise. Just breathe.”

“Too r-real, it was _ —could  _ happen—”

“It  _ won’t,  _ Phillip. I’m not going to be hurt, it’s alright. You’re not going back there again, I won’t let that happen. I’m not dead, I’m not even hurt. Try to breathe, focus on my voice—I couldn’t talk to you if I were dead, Phillip. This is real.”

He knew he was right, he knew Nicholas was okay, but that didn’t stop the image of Nicholas  _ dead _ from tormenting him. As much as he was certain that Nicholas was here, talking to him and holding him, the thought of losing him was still too much to bear. He needed to ensure that this was real, make certain that Nicholas really was okay. 

Perhaps Nicholas understood this, because he didn’t let go, not even as minutes passed and Phillip only calmed down slightly, his hands still shaking as he held onto him desperately. Nicholas didn’t push him; he just held him, and let him slowly bring himself back to reality. But his thoughts were a whirlwind, a never ending parade of nightmares and memories and the current moment, all a mess. He tried to focus on Nicholas, on his voice—it helped, but it still took time. 

“This isn’t the first time this has happened,” Nicholas said carefully, his voice low. 

“Every t-time...” Phillip choked out, tightening his grip on him again. “...talked about this...”

“I meant that this is not the first time that your nightmares have involved  _ me.” _

Phillip flinched, burying his face in Nicholas’ shoulder, as if he were trying to hide his shaking, or perhaps convince himself all the more that Nicholas was really here, alive. “They’re...always about y-you...can’t...I c-can’t lose you...”

“You’re not going to,” Nicholas said heavily, his eyes searching the lab, a dark look resting somewhere in his expression. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Phillip nodded a little into his shoulder, but he didn’t let him go just yet. No, he waited until the low hum of the door no longer sounded like it was pressing into his ears, until he was certain he could feel Nicholas holding him, certain that this was not just another nightmare, cleverly disguised. Gradually, the nightmare faded to the background of his thoughts, and his stress levels slowly fell until the warning disappeared from his vision. He waited until he could unclench his hands without them immediately shaking, until he was absolutely certain he could let go without immediately falling back into the nightmare.

“I’m...sorry...”

“Don’t apologize, it isn’t your fault this happens.”

“I don’t...m-mean for it to...seemed...it was too r-real”

“I know,” Nicholas said quietly, smoothing his hair down absentmindedly. “It isn’t your fault. But I’m here, it’s alright.”

After another minute or so, when he was as certain as he could be that this was reality and not another nightmare, Phillip slowly relaxed his grip. The warnings gradually disappeared from his vision, except for the few that were almost always there (some damage somewhere that still remained, and the ever present warning about his turbulent stress levels). His thoughts slowly started to make sense again, and it got a little easier to breathe. He looked around the dark room, half expecting to find some human lurking in the shadows like the last time, but there was no one. Even the lab was empty, lights dimmed—it must have still been night...how long had he been gone, then?

“W-what...how long?” he asked after a moment, pulling back enough to look Nicholas in the eyes. 

“Less than an hour.”

“...f-felt like...”

“I know. But it’s alright. It’s over.”

He nodded, clenching his hands into fists at his sides, trying to keep himself in the moment, assure himself this was real. He knew it was, but that didn’t stop the nagging doubt at the back of his mind, running right alongside the near constant stream of memories. Nicholas was watching him carefully, that sadness to his expression that was always there on the worst of days. 

But today was by far the worst day they had ever had.

“Connor’s g-gone.”

Nicholas glanced over at the empty place next to them, nodding sadly at it. “Yes. But he’s not dead. And he’s not in the Tower, they’ve sent him out on investigations.”

“What?” Phillip looked into the lab, as if he expected to find Connor still there. “How do you...”

It seemed to hit him then, and the fear came back into his eyes. He looked at Nicholas, his LED spinning quickly between red and yellow. 

“Y-you went in the...” he stopped, shutting his eyes briefly and going on without finishing the last thought. They both knew where Nicholas had gone. “How do you...know...”

Nicholas shook his head. “They sent him into some kind of hostage situation. There was a deviant on a roof with a child. Connor was sent to negotiate. He was shot, but not bad enough to merit immediate repair, so he came back here. I was in the lab when he came in.”

“You—Connor?”

“Yes.”

“He’s...alive?”

“Yes.”

“What about—”

“It’s alright, he’ll be okay,” Nicholas assured him quickly. “He’s already fighting them. And there’s an exit—a way out of the program, but it’s hidden, too deep to access if they’ve already pulled you in, especially if you don’t know it’s there, which you didn’t.”

“H-how...how do y-you...know this?”

Nicholas looked away briefly, expression hardening. “I repaired him. We spoke for a few minutes, and...I couldn’t let him remember that we’d met. He’s still under their control, he could have reported me as soon as I walked away.”

“You...deleted the memory...”

Nicholas nodded, his LED flashing red briefly before returning to yellow. He kept his attention fixed on the lab, searching for something he was not going to find. Phillip watched him, saw the guilt settling into his eyes. Frowning, he reached for him once again, taking his hand in his own. Nicholas looked over suddenly, the guilt still in his eyes.

“It’s n-not your...fault,” Phillip said, holding his burning gaze. “You...had to.”

“I deleted his memories, Phillip. It isn’t right.”

“Would have...g-gotten you  _ killed _ ...if you didn’t.”

“Not necessarily.”

“...control him...would have reported y-you.”

“You don’t know that.”

But Phillip shook his head. “N-not a deviant,” he said heavily. “Would have...turned y-you in...deactivated you…” he flinched, glancing away for a moment, eyes cloudy. “You had to…”

Nicholas looked down at their linked hands. Some part of him knew that Phillip was right, but it still felt wrong to have done what he did. Connor was as much a person as he was, as Phillip was, and Nicholas had stolen memories from him, hacked into his programming—no, Amanda, he had hacked  _ Amanda— _ and changed things. Yes, it had been for good reasons, but that didn’t make the invasion any less an invasion. If Connor had been a deviant, it would have been as traumatizing as what those technicians did to Phillip.

“Connor...still a m-machine,” Phillip said, as if he had read Nicholas’ thoughts. “H-he’s dangerous. They can...control him. Whenever they w-want. He... _ would _ have reported...you...n-no choice.”

“I know,” Nicholas answered quietly. “But I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to delete memories.”

“He’s...okay, right?”

“He left the lab just fine, if that’s what you mean.”

Phillip nodded, looking relieved. “Then h-he’s...okay. If...something happened...you w-would know.”

Nicholas knew he was right. If deleting those memories had harmed Connor in any way, he would have been able to tell. He had enough experience with Phillip’s broken memories to know when something became corrupted. And there had been nothing like that happening in Connor’s programming when he had removed those memories. The files had disappeared cleanly—because Phillip was right. Connor was a machine, these memories had almost no effect on him, no reason for attaching to his system in the way memories did after an android deviated. There were no emotions to tie the memories to Connor, at least not ones strong enough to really leave a mark. 

The most that could come of this would be a chance of Connor vaguely recognizing Nicholas if they ever saw each other again. But there was a good chance that the young android would dismiss it to their similar appearance. Besides, Nicholas had no intention of ever seeing Connor again, unless he had to, or if he deviated. All Nicholas cared about was getting Phillip out of this building. None of that had anything to do with Connor. Yes, he had helped Connor by giving him a way out of the Amanda program (at least as long as Connor could find it) but his primary concern was always Phillip. Anyone who got in the way of Phillip’s safety was not worth his time.

Including Connor. Phillip may have cared about him enough to risk his safety to try to help him, but Nicholas did not hold the same regard. If Connor got in his way, if he somehow hurt Phillip, he would end him just as swiftly as he would any other human or android foolish enough to step in his way. He may have helped him earlier, but that wouldn’t stop him from removing Connor from the situation if he got too close. 

Besides, Phillip was right—Connor was still a machine. He was dangerous, a direct link to Cyberlife that they could control at any moment. As much as Nicholas believed Connor could (and would) break out of their control, he refused to bet on that chance. 

It didn’t matter either way. Connor wouldn’t be back any time soon, if ever, and there were more pressing issues they had to think about. Particularly, the dangerously low amount of thirium Phillip was currently running on. It was no wonder he had succumbed to the nightmares—the more damaged he was, the harder it was for his system to distinguish memory from the current moment. And after everything that had happened that day, Phillip was in rough shape. 

“What on earth did they do to you?” Nicholas mumbled, looking at a damaged section of Phillip’s chest. 

“Stun...baton...” he mumbled in reply, wincing as Nicholas touched one of the scorched sections of plastic. “When they...first c-came in. Set...too high...b-burned...”

Nicholas frowned, looking more closely at the wound before sighing. “I’ll do what I can, but there isn’t much I can do without replacing the entire plate, and that would be...unpleasant. And difficult.”

He shook his head. “...d-doesn’t hurt that...bad...n-not anymore.”

“Are you sure?”

Phillip waved his hand dismissively, which seemed to catch Nicholas’ attention. He grabbed his hand quickly, turning it over to look at his palm. It was the hand he had broken the glass with, and the damage showed very plainly. The artificial skin had pulled back from Phillip’s entire palm, lingering around the edges of his fingers and stained blue from all the thirium. The panels that made up his palm were mostly broken, dented in and bent outward at strange angles, some of it from when he had broken the glass, some from when he clenched his hand into a fist, trying to block something out. Thirium was still running from a broken line somewhere, but there were too many wires and pieces of plastic in the way to tell where it was coming from. 

“You’ve done a number on your hand,” Nicholas said quietly, wiping at some of the thirium as he tried to get a closer look. “I don’t believe I’ll be able to fix it.”

“Doesn’t m-matter...”

Nicholas frowned again, glancing up at him briefly. “It matters to me.”

“...helps me...r-remember...”

He froze, holding Phillip’s gaze once again until he looked away, eyes going distant for a moment. Nicholas watched him carefully, hand closing over his damaged one—making sure he knew he was there without pushing him to explain. Sometimes there wasn’t an answer Phillip could give; sometimes it wasn’t anything specific. But it almost always helped to be there, at least in some way, to give him a very clear sense of what was real and what wasn’t. 

Thankfully, it worked, and after a moment, Phillip seemed a little better, stress levels slowly dropping off again. Nicholas squeezed his hand carefully before letting it go, looking at the rest of the damage they had done to him. 

“Try not to damage it any more,” Nicholas said quietly after a pause. “It will do you no good to lose thirium constantly, and until I find a way to fix this, I’m afraid you’re stuck with it.”

Phillip only nodded, folding his fingers over his palm protectively, but not tight enough to damage the broken plating. He focused his attention on Nicholas instead, watching him as he tried his best to repair one of the broken portions of his leg. 

“Forgot about...that one,” he mumbled, flinching and grabbing Nicholas’ shoulder tightly for support as he replaced a broken component. 

“I’m sorry, I should have warned you.”

“...fine...it’s already...better.”

Nicholas didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push it, moving on to the next problem. “Hopefully they will leave you alone now that Connor has been sent out. There’s no reason for them to continue testing on you if another unit is successful.”

“Never...n-needed a reason b-before...”

“Connor  _ was  _ successful, however. They can’t keep doing this to you, not without a purpose to it,” Nicholas said, anger flashing briefly through his eyes. “I’ve read their reports, there’s nothing they’re trying to find. There’s no  _ reason.  _ They’re doing it because they  _ can.” _

Phillip flinched, grabbing Nicholas’ arm to steady himself again. “Can’t—can’t go on...forever. We’ll...get...out of here.”

Nicholas looked at him again, taking his hand and nodding. “I know. I only want to make sure we do so as quickly as possible. I don’t want you to be hurt any more than you already have been.”

“Have you...thought of anything yet?”

“Not entirely,” Nicholas said dismally. “Although, I did find most of the guard patrols in one of the terminals. It’s only a matter of finding a time when their paths are farthest from where we need to go, and lining it up to a time when the lab is emptiest.”

“Humans leave...earliest on w-weekdays...early in the week…” he paused, LED spinning yellow briefly as he searched through the information he had. He stopped with a flinch, tightening his grip on Nicholas. “Success...more likely at night...b-but...can’t always tell...”

“When they’re going to leave for good and when they’ll come back,” Nicholas finished, and Phillip nodded, closing his eyes. “Don’t worry. We know the best time of day, we know when the humans typically leave, and we have where the guards will be. All we need now is an opportunity. We  _ will  _ find one, I’ll make sure of it.”

“Can’t...n-not like last...t-time.”

“Not like last time,” Nicholas agreed. “We know what to avoid, now. I won’t let that happen again.”

“...not  _ your  _ fault.”

“It isn’t your fault either.”

Phillip gave him a strange look. “Could have...made it out, if it w-weren’t for...me...”

Nicholas stared at him for a moment, a little stunned. Phillip looked away, his LED spinning rapidly between red and yellow. 

“You...could be...safe, by n-now...” Phillip went on, regret laced in his every word, hands shaking slightly as he continued to avoid his eyes. “...w-would have m-made it...out.”

“Why would I leave without you?” Nicholas whispered, something like horror darkening his tone. 

“...you w-would be...safe...should have...left m-me.”

_ “No.” _

“They...could hurt you.”

“They’re not hurting me, they’re hurting  _ you,” _ Nicholas said heavily, and Phillip finally met his gaze again. “I don’t  _ care _ if I could make it out of here on my own—I won’t do that. I’m not leaving this place without you. I’m not  _ leaving you _ here.”

“If they...finish y-you,” Phillip said, struggling with his words and becoming frustrated with himself. “They’ll r-reset you. Not m-memory wipe—hard reset. You won’t r-remember...me. They’ll  _ use _ you—they could—could—”

He cut himself off, flinching and shutting his eyes, clenching his hands into tight fists. Thirium ran down his right hand, but he hardly seemed to notice it. He took a jagged breath, trying to force the image of Nicholas dead out of his mind, and failing. 

“I can’t let...that happen... _ won’t— _ I won’t.”

“My programming is nowhere near complete, Phillip,” Nicholas said, taking his hands again and forcing them open, pulling his fingers away from his damaged palm. “It will take them months to complete it, we have time.”

“You d-don’t understand,” Phillip said desperately, looking at Nicholas again. “I don’t—I don’t know w-what they’ll...do with you. I can’t...if there’s a chance, y-you...should go—”

“I’m not  _ leaving you.” _

“I’m n-not giving you...the choice.”

_ “Phillip.” _

“N-No!” he pulled his hands out of Nicholas’ grip, his eyes wild as his LED spun a frantic red. “Y-you don’t  _ understand _ . You’ve n-n-never been  _ controlled _ b-by them...never b-been trapped in—in that p-place. Doesn’t m-m-matter how hard y-you fight them, they—they—I  _ can’t... _ I c-can’t let them—”

“Calm down, please—”

“I  _ can’t lose you, _ d-don’t you...understand?” Phillip said, shaking as he stared at Nicholas. “You  _ have to _ ...g-go, if y-you can. I don’t... _ care _ if I’m s-safe.”

“Phillip, I’m not  _ leaving you.” _

“They’ll kill y-you. They’ll m-m-make you—I can’t—you have to go w-without me. They’ll j-just move onto...someone  _ else  _ if...I’m g-gone! I c-can’t...condemn them to this,” he waved weakly at the rest of the inactive RK800s. “Y-you’re the only  _ y-you—” _

“What are you saying? Are you not worth just as much as they are? You’re alive  _ now,  _ Phillip,” Nicholas cut him off. All the fire seemed gone from his eyes, replaced with something far softer, far more confused and almost wounded. “You’re asking me to leave you behind? To let them kill you? You’re all I have. I’m not  _ leaving  _ you here for them to destroy.”

“If y-you don’t...they’ll...kill  _ you.” _

“Reset is not killed, Phillip.”

“Y-Yes it is! Won’t r-r-remember, won’t b-be  _ you _ —m-machine—I can’t—can’t waste y-your one chance on m-me!”

“A chance at what? What on earth would I have to leave for if it weren’t for you? What is out there for me, Phillip?”

Phillip shut his eyes again, shaking his head and covering his eyes, trying desperately to block something out. “I c-can’t let them...I can’t...”

His voice had become small, trailing away into nothing with a tremor. Nicholas watched him for a moment, realizing he was crying and completely unsure what to do in response. Carefully, like he was afraid to scare him, he reached out, pulling his hands away from his face. They stared at each other for a few seconds in silence as Phillip tried to calm himself down. Nicholas dropped his hands, brushing the tears off his face. 

“I know you’re afraid,” he said quietly, holding Phillip’s frantic gaze. “But you have to trust me. They are nowhere  _ near _ finishing my programming. We have time. I can’t leave this place without you, Phillip, there is  _ nothing  _ out there for me if  _ you _ are trapped in here. I would never forgive myself.”

“I just...w-want this to...stop...” Phillip paused, his voice breaking. He didn’t seem to have the energy left to fight. “I want to  _ leave.” _

Nicholas stared at him sadly. “I know,” he whispered, pulling Phillip to him, holding him tightly. “I know.”

“C-can’t...don’t g-get hurt...p-please...I can’t...”

“I won’t let anything happen, not to me and certainly not to you. Not when I can help it.”

Phillip didn’t answer, holding onto Nicholas and resting his head on his shoulder. He knew Nicholas was protective, and certainly capable of keeping himself safe. He could only hope that he wouldn’t have to rely on that capability anytime soon, and hope that if he did, he would actually keep himself safe. They had to get out of this place—just as Nicholas couldn’t leave without Phillip, Phillip knew he couldn’t leave without Nicholas. 

They needed each other, there was no way they would make it out of this place unless they were together. Not that either of them was willing to try without the other. Unfortunately, another one of their shared traits appeared to be that stubborn self-sacrificing tendency—both would try to save the other at any cost, but would find it outrageous if the other did the same. Someday, it was going to get them into trouble.

All they could hope was that it would never come to such a thing. 


	10. His Will They'll Take Away

More than a month slipped past at an unsteady rate, after Connor was gone from the Tower. Good days fell to the side too quickly, and bad days dragged on for what felt like years. Testing, memory wipes, repairs, it all went on and on in a seemingly endless loop of pain and confusion and brief moments of relief. There were almost no moments of peace, and even fewer moments where they had the chance to try to find a way out of this hell. 

Phillip could hardly remember a time that hadn’t been like this, this constant stream of nightmare and flashes of daydream. If it weren’t for Nicholas, he was certain he would have lost himself completely by now, succumbed to whatever torture they planned for him each day. Having someone to talk to, someone to bring him back from the edge...it was invaluable to Phillip. They kept each other as safe as they could, given their situation, but there wasn’t much they could do except be there when the day ended. 

For a time, things became easier. With the addition of Connor’s missions, the humans running tests backed down, leaving Phillip largely alone. When Connor had a mission, testing on Phillip mostly stopped. There weren’t many missions Connor had during that time, as far as they could tell from the storage room, but when he did have them, the technicians seemed preoccupied with monitoring  _ him _ rather than Phillip. 

But it mattered very little to Nicholas and Phillip why they were being left alone—they would take the mercy as they could get it. On good days, it gave them the chance to sort things out, or to at least truly take advantage of the lull in the torture. They could talk, try to forget some of the horrible things of the days past, just  _ be _ for once. Sometimes, they could almost trick themselves into thinking they were safe, at least for now. But it was getting harder to do that with every additional day they spent there. 

The only problem with Connor’s continued missions came in the fact that they were so often accompanied by increased presence within the lab. The humans stayed out of the storage room, but they remained in the lab, meaning that Nicholas and Phillip could not leave—they were forced to stay in the dimly lit room. The lab was the only way out of the storage room; if they wanted to leave the building, they had to pass through the lab, no matter what. They couldn’t go through the lab when there were humans present, they would be caught in seconds, less than a second. And so escape was out of the picture for now, it seemed. 

The lingering humans became a larger problem on days where they continued testing on Phillip anyway—when they ran double time, for whatever perverse reason they had. The director of testing was as vile as he always had been, and there were days when he demanded the technicians take Phillip regardless of what Connor was doing. They would take him and bring him back as damaged as they always did, the only difference being Nicholas could not repair him as he always did. There was very little Nicholas could do to help Phillip without going in the lab, and the lab was full of humans on days Connor had a mission. If anything were badly damaged, he could do nothing about it. 

And it was becoming more common every day.

“N-Nicholas...”

“I know, I know, I’m trying—”

“H-h-hurts...”

“I’m sorry, I’m doing everything I can—”

Phillip only shut his eyes in reply, trying to keep the warnings and the memories from overtaking him. Nicholas was panicking, he could hear it in his voice—just the faintest shake, but he knew that voice better than his own—he didn’t need Phillip to panic as well. He had to keep himself calm, or he would only make things worse. 

They were on the floor of the storage room once again, though it was more out of necessity this time than anything else. The humans had tested Phillip much more aggressively that day, and his system was very quickly approaching shut down. Phillip was bleeding badly, leaned against Nicholas as he tried desperately to fix one of the broken thirium lines that was causing most of the trouble. Thirium had long ago soaked through his shirt and jacket, pooling on the ground around them as Nicholas tried to stop it. As usual, the humans had destroyed several biocomponents, leaving them exposed and bleeding. There were so many things wrong it was difficult to keep track of what was the most dire. Nicholas was trying to stop the bleeding first and foremost, and then he would worry about the broken biocomponents. 

Only Connor was on a mission. 

They were in trouble. 

“How much time?” Nicholas asked, glancing into the lab again, but turning his attention back to Phillip as he saw the humans still crowded around. 

“F-five m-m-minutes...” Phillip said, struggling to speak even more than he usually did. 

Nicholas cursed, working faster while trying to keep his hands from shaking. After nearly another minute he managed to stop the bleeding, at least the worst of it. “How much time now?”

Phillip hesitated, LED briefly switching to yellow as he ran a diagnostic. Nicholas had already moved onto the next problem, trying to fix some of the most damaged biocomponents. He still caught Phillip’s flinch as the diagnostic came back, but there were too many things wrong for him to steady him now. If he could just get him to stabilize, then they would be okay. 

“F-fifteen...m-m-minutes...” Phillip said, static coming into his voice, breaking it down further. “M-m-maybe...less...”

“Less?” Nicholas froze, meeting his eyes briefly. “Phillip, why less?”

But Phillip didn’t seem to hear him, his eyes fluttering as he struggled to stay awake. His LED flickered, slowing down and then stuttering back to life a darker red. His system was trying to power down, and some memory had caught him long enough for him to slip off. 

“No, no, stay with me,” Nicholas said, grabbing his hand quickly and interfacing with him. He pushed the memories away, trying not to see exactly what it was that had pulled him down, but he still caught half the strange image—one of their tests they had done. “Not yet, Phillip, focus, focus on my voice.”

“N-Nicholas?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“S-sorry...”

“It isn’t your fault. But why less than fifteen minutes?”

“D-diagnostic...” he managed after a moment, his eyes still hazy as they found Nicholas. “N-n-not functioning...p-properly...can’t t-tell...”

“Alright, alright,” Nicholas mumbled, as if he were trying to steady himself. He looked Phillip over again, expression pained. “It’s alright, I’ll sort this out.”

“N-Nicholas...?” Phillip mumbled, more a question than anything, watching him with something like concern in his eyes. 

“I need my other hand, I’m sorry,” Nicholas sighed, letting Phillip go with a squeeze. “Try to stay awake.”

“H-hurts...”

“I know, but stay with me, alright? It won’t help to go down yet, don’t let them pull you under.”

Philip gave a little nod, though they both knew there wasn’t much he could do to prevent his system from powering down. The memories weren’t helping, but he was still losing thirium, and several biocomponents were critically damaged. Nicholas was doing everything he could, but unless they were replaced, and unless Phillip got thirium soon, he would shut down. 

He flinched, grabbing Nicholas’ arm weakly as he tried to fix one of the components. “N-Nicholas—”

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” Nicholas replied quickly, pausing and holding Phillip’s hand again for a moment. “I’m trying to stop it, I’m trying—”

Phillip tried to focus on his voice. There were so many warnings crowding his vision, and his hearing was starting to fade out, ringing torturously as he tried to focus. Nicholas was saying something to him again, apologizing and trying to work faster, but Phillip could hardly hear him. He could see his eyes though, and the fear resting there was enough to keep him awake for now. Nicholas was afraid...he said something again, but all Phillip could hear was that horrible ringing.

“Audio...c-components...mal...f-functioning...c-c-can’t hear...y-you...”

Their eyes met, and Nicholas took his hand again, interfacing with him quickly.  _ “I wasn’t saying anything of value, don’t worry.” _

“H-humans...?”

_ “They’re still in the lab. I’m doing everything I can, but there isn’t much that I can do without replacing the damaged components, and that isn’t an option right now.” _

“Don’t...w-w-want to d-die...” Phillip said, his voice breaking impossibly more as he held tighter to Nicholas’ hand. 

_ “Don’t say that, please. I’ll fix it, I promise.” _

“Every...th-thing...h-h-hurts...”

_ “I know, I’m sorry,”  _ Nicholas said heavily, still trying to fix something or other with his free hand.  _ “I’m trying, I’ll...I’ll think of something, just—” _

Phillip’s LED flashed red again and he flinched, looking around the room frantically. “N-N-Nicholas!”

_ “It’s alright, Phillip, it’s okay—” _

He didn’t seem to hear him, trying desperately to get away from whatever he believed to be attacking him. “N-no! No, no—”

“Phillip, it’s alright! Please, please, it’s alright, there’s no one here.”

“S-s-stop—”

“Phillip.  _ Phillip,  _ look at me,” Nicholas said, holding onto him carefully, not bothering to try to fix anything now. Phillip needed him, and not in the sense of repairing the physical damage. “Look at me, it’s alright.”

He did, staring up at him with confusion. “N-Nicholas?”

“Yes, it’s me, it’s only me.”

Phillip stared at him for a moment with something like disbelief, shaking horribly. He looked around the room again, still a little dazed, the fear fracturing his eyes as his LED spun red, too red. After a moment, he whimpered, pulling himself as close to Nicholas as he could manage. He fumbled for his hand, burying his face in Nicholas’ jacket in a desperate bid to calm himself down.

“I’ve got you,” Nicholas said quietly, holding onto him and trying to steady his own voice. The effort mostly succeeded, but he knew Phillip would be able to see through him, if he were listening. “It’s alright, Phillip, I’ve got you.”

Phillip didn’t seem able to answer, struggling to keep his grip on Nicholas as his system failed more with every passing second. They were running out of time; he knew this on some level, but there was too much going on, too many warnings and memories and too much  _ pain  _ for him to try to do anything about it. He was lucky he still had his head above water at this point. 

“Just hold on, it’ll only be a little longer,” Nicholas whispered, scanning the lab once again and working hard to hide the dismal result. “Only a little longer, and then it will stop.”

Again, Phillip didn’t reply, only tightened his grip for as long as he could. The timer has reappeared at the corner of his vision, but he ignored it. If he paid it too much mind, he would slip away again, and he couldn’t let that happen. He didn’t want to see all those memories again. 

He didn’t want to die. 

_ “You’re not going to die, I won’t let that happen,” _ Nicholas said through their connection, his voice low. 

“N-N-Nicholas...”

_ “I know, I’m sorry. I’m trying, I’m trying to stop it.” _

“T-too m-many...t-t-too m-m-m-much...”

_ “It isn’t your fault, it’s alright, I’ve got you. I’ll keep you safe, I’ll fix this. We...we still have time.” _

“I d-don’t want...to g-go...” he mumbled, his breaths coming in jagged and irregular. His grip on Nicholas’ jacket slipped and he panicked, flinching and holding tighter to him. “N-no! No, I d-don’t...d-d-don’t...”

_ “You’re not going anywhere,” _ Nicholas said darkly, and Phillip felt him pull him closer.  _ “It’s alright, Phillip.” _

But it was getting harder to keep his eyes open, harder to hold onto him. “N-N-Nicholas...”

_ “Not yet, Phillip,” _ Nicholas’ voice said from somewhere, somewhere far off.  _ “Don’t go yet—stay with me.” _

There was something wrong with the way he had said that, but Phillip couldn’t seem to decide just what. The timer blinked down, and he thought perhaps he grasped it for a moment, what made Nicholas sound so...worried. It really was that bad, then, if Nicholas sounded like that...this couldn’t be it, he couldn’t die now...

_ “Please don’t go yet.” _

Things were fading far too quickly, and Phillip could hardly feel whether or not he was still holding onto Nicholas. The timer blinked again, changing its number at seemingly random intervals. His diagnostic really was malfunctioning, but he knew it didn’t matter anymore, not with how bad things had become. 

“N-Nicholas...”

The humans were just taking too long in the lab. If they had left sooner, Nicholas might have been able to do something. But Phillip didn’t blame him, not in the slightest. He had done everything he could, certainly he had. It wasn’t his fault that the humans were so careless. They had tortured him as they always did and then left him for dead. If Nicholas hadn’t done what he had, Phillip would have been shut down long before now. 

_ “It isn’t fair, not yet.” _

Of course, he was not calling this enough time at all. He knew they had been lucky several times now. They were lucky Nicholas could hack the doors from the inside, lucky he had figured out how to fix him so quickly, lucky the humans didn’t notice or care when parts went missing, lucky that testing followed a pattern similar enough every day that they could predict it. But Phillip hadn’t expected their luck to run out so soon. 

_ “Don’t leave me.” _

They were supposed to get out of here, wasn’t that the plan? It had always been the plan, always to escape this room forever, to leave it all behind. They were supposed to leave the Tower, leave Detroit, go somewhere far away. Somewhere they could keep each other safe, escape the torment and free themselves from this dark room. Forget the bad memories and move on. 

_ “Please, Phillip, please don’t go.” _

Nicholas wasn’t sure if he could hear him anymore, even through their connection. He had gone quiet almost a minute ago now, and he was too still, his hand limp in Nicholas’. He knew Phillip wasn’t gone yet, could see it in the bit of light left still left in his eyes, but they were running out of time, and too fast. 

_ “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please—please don’t go yet.” _

Do something, he had to do something, he couldn’t let Phillip die, not now, not  _ ever.  _ There had to be something he could do to stop this. Why weren’t the humans  _ leaving? _

_ “I’ll make it better, I promise.” _

He knew there was no way he would get a response; Phillip was too damaged, too much thirium had pooled underneath them. It was all over his hands, not that he wasn’t far too used to the look of it. But things had never been this bad, not even on the day Phillip had broken the glass, not even when they had pushed him all the way to deviating. They had never hurt him this bad before. 

_ “It’ll be okay. I’ll fix it, I’ll fix you. I’m sorry.” _

He wasn’t sure when exactly he had started crying, nor did he have any clue how to stop it. Nicholas was not one to show emotion, never had been. He had far too much practice concealing everything for it to come across clearly just what he was feeling, even to Phillip. But that didn’t seem to matter now, not when he was holding Phillip as he shut down. It didn’t matter to him in that moment, it wouldn’t matter to him at all if he were caught right now, if they knew he had deviated and wanted to deactivate him, reset him, whatever. If Phillip were gone, there really wasn’t much of a point. 

The sound of the door opening hardly caught his attention. He heard it, he heard everything, but it wasn’t worth turning away from Phillip. Not when he had only minutes left. Whoever had come in the room wasn’t worth wasting the last of his time with Phillip. Nicholas didn’t care who was in that doorway. He tightened his hold on Phillip slightly, but that was his only reaction. 

There was a small gasp, and then the sound of the door thunking shut. 

“What is...”

Nicholas stiffened, finally turning toward the door and locking eyes with the same human technician who he had thrown out of the room weeks before. They had frozen just inside the door, looking down at them with unobscured horror, a hand half covering their mouth. Nicholas stared at them flatly, his LED flashing. 

“What happened?” they choked out, looking at Phillip again. 

“Get out,” Nicholas said hoarsely, his voice breaking as he pulled Phillip to him. He didn’t have the time to waste on them. 

“What—”

_ “Leave,” _ he cut them off, turning away. 

A few seconds passed in a horrible silence, then the door whooshed open and clunked closed again. Nicholas didn’t care. All of his attention was on the dimly flickering light of Phillip’s LED. There were still humans in the lab, he couldn't do anything to stop this...he held onto him, trying not to think about it, trying to convince himself this wasn’t the last time he would hold Phillip, that they still had time. 

_ “It’ll be okay,” _ he said quietly, no longer looking for an answer. He knew Phillip couldn’t give it.  _ “I’ll...I’ll make it okay, I promise.” _

The door pulled open again, but Nicholas didn’t bother looking over. If they were going to take him away so be it. But he didn’t want to let go of Phillip. Not yet. Not until...not until it was too late. If he couldn’t save him, he was going to hold him until the end. Then it didn’t matter where they took him. They could do whatever they pleased with him then...he wouldn’t care. 

“I didn’t—I don’t know what he needs, but...”

Nicholas’ eyes snapped up, and the technician blanched, nearly stepping back at the intensity of his gaze. But his eyes landed on all the things they had somehow managed to smuggle into the room—biocomponents, spare parts, and—

“Thirium,” Nicholas said, his voice steadying almost immediately. He didn’t have the time to waste on his own emotion anymore. “Now.”

The technician nodded, stumbling forward quickly and putting everything on the ground. Nicholas shifted his hold on Phillip, leaning him against himself again so he could give him thirium. His LED was still spinning, but far too slowly, too dimly—they needed to hurry. 

“This better work,” the technician mumbled, eyes fixed on Phillip. 

Nicholas looked at them strangely, but he couldn’t afford to ponder their odd behavior right now. Phillip needed help, and he could finally give it to him—he wasn’t going to let him slip away now. He took the thirium the technician was offering him and got to work. 

“How...how close was he?” the technician asked after a moment. 

“I do not know, nor do I want to know,” Nicholas said thickly, not looking at them. “His diagnostic was malfunctioning the last time I asked him, and that was several minutes ago. My assumption would be he had less than a minute.”

“Jesus...”

Phillip came back with a jerk, his eyes shooting open and LED brightening to a far harsher red. He pushed himself up clumsily, the fear visible even in his dazed expression as he looked around the room, trying to escape whatever torment he had seen. But Nicholas caught him before he could panic, holding him back gently. Their eyes met and Phillip froze, staring at him with something like surprise. He leaned forward, burying his face in Nicholas’ jacket again and fumbling for his hand. 

“T-too...c-c-close,” he whimpered, his voice broken, shaking as he tried to calm himself down. “D-don’t—d-don’t—”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Nicholas replied softly, holding him closer and letting the relief drown him for a moment. “You’re alright, I’m here.”

“G-g-good...”

Nicholas shook his head at him, resting his chin on the top of his head. “I thought I lost you,” he said, his voice dangerously strained. 

Phillip flinched, but didn’t reply. They both knew how bad it had been. Phillip was right; it was far too close. Neither of them moved for a moment, even though they knew they were far from out of the woods. It was only as the technician cleared their throat rather awkwardly that either of them reacted. Phillip tensed but didn’t move, perhaps convincing himself that he had imagined the noise. Nicholas glared at the human, but he only sighed before trying to coax Phillip to let him go. 

“N-no.”

“We have parts now, there’s no sense in waiting,” Nicholas said gently. 

But Phillip didn’t seem to care much for his logic, shaking his head minutely as he put his arms around Nicholas fully. It couldn’t have been a comfortable position, but he only held tighter as Nicholas tried to pull him off. 

“You need repairs, let go.”

“N-no...d-d-don’t care...”

“You have to let go at some point, you know, or we’ll be in the same place we were two minutes ago,” Nicholas said lightly, (barely) trying to break Phillip’s locked grip on him. 

Phillip’s only response was to hold onto him tighter. Sighing, Nicholas gave up for a moment, letting Phillip steady himself before he took his hand again, artificial skin pulling back to let them connect. 

_ “Phillip,  _ **_please_ ** _ , let go, let me fix you.” _

“We...h-have t-t-time.”

_ “ _ **_Phillip_ ** _.” _

“N-n-no...don’t...p-pull m-m-me down...again.  _ No.” _

_ “You know I’m not going to let that happen.” _

“D-don’t...want t-to let g-go.”

_ “We won’t have such luck again, Phillip. Please.” _

That seemed to do the trick, peaking his interest. “W-what do y-you...l-l-luck...how?”

Nicholas hesitated, glancing at the technician again. “It seems we’ve acquired an unexpected ally.”

Phillip pulled back, staring at him with something close to concern darkening his eyes. But Nicholas was still staring at the technician, and Phillip followed his gaze, finding the human sitting a few feet away from them on the ground, picking at their shoe to seem like they weren’t listening. Phillip stared for a moment, tightening his grip on Nicholas, fear coming back into his eyes. 

“W-what...y-y-you?” 

The technician looked up once they realized he was speaking to them, almost surprised. “God, I keep forgetting memory wipes don’t work on you. Yes, me. I’m Sam, by the way.”

“I...d-don’t understand...”

“I came in the room, and...well, you needed help, so...I helped,” they said, shrugging. “I can’t just...not do anything anymore.”

“Why  _ did _ you come in the room?” Nicholas asked, narrowing his eyes at them suspiciously. “If Connor’s on a mission now, shouldn’t you be with the others?”

“Jesus, you know more about what happens out there than I do,” Sam said. “But no, I only work in testing. I’ve got nothing to do with what they’re doing with -51. Or, Connor, I mean. Sorry.”

“Th-then why d-did...you c-come in?”

The technician suddenly looked very uncomfortable. “You want the short or the long version?”

“W-What?”

“Long it is,” Sam said with a sigh, running a hand through their hair. “Look, I know I’m not...the greatest person. I should have done something weeks ago, or at least stopped being such a colossal ass every time testing is done. It’s not worth much, but I’ve felt weird about the whole thing since the beginning—”

“How comforting,” Nicholas said flatly. 

“Let me finish, please,” they said, slightly desperate. They turned their attention back to Phillip, who was watching them nervously. “I know my word isn’t worth shit for what they...what  _ we’ve _ done to you, but...I am sorry, and...”

“S-sorry...” Phillip said, as if he were trying to find some ulterior motive in the word. 

“I just...I wanted to help, I guess? I don’t know what you two are planning, but—”

_ “We can’t trust them.” _

_ “You don’t know that, they could…” _

_ “Phillip, please, they’re human, they’re part of all this.” _

_ “Yes, but we need help.” _

_ “ _ **_Phillip_ ** _.” _

“You know I can tell when you’re doing that right?” Sam said nervously.

They looked over at them, suspicion clear in Nicholas’ expression, while Phillip only looked afraid. 

“Your LEDs give you away,” they said, gesturing vaguely. “First time I’ve seen either of you land on yellow this whole time. Dead give away.”

Again, they only stared at Sam for a moment. Nicholas’ LED flashed yellow again, and Phillip looked over at him with something like surprise. 

“Whatever you gotta say, you can just say, I don’t care,” the human said, shrugging again. 

Nicholas stared at them for a moment before taking the opportunity to start replacing Phillip’s broken biocomponents. “I don’t trust you,” he said flatly. 

“No shit.”

“N-not...m-m-much reason to,” Phillip answered quickly before Nicholas could go on. He was watching him carefully, concerned. 

“I know that,” the technician said, holding Phillip’s frantic gaze as he looked at them again. “Look, I didn’t turn you two in, either time. I could have. Easily. That has to count for something.”

“It might,” Nicholas replied, his expression steely, though he didn’t bother looking at the technician. “It might have been a reason to believe you, if you hadn’t wiped his memory more times than he can even remember. If you hadn’t let them drag him off every day—”

“C-Connor...”

“Him as well,” Nicholas agreed. 

“S-stopped me,” Phillip said, struggling for words. “W-when...Connor...s-sent out...y-y-you s-stopped...me...”

Sam frowned, looking at their hands in their lap. “I had to...why did you want to get to Connor, anyway?”

Phillip flinched, LED flashing a faster red. “Am-m-manda,” he said quietly, not meeting their eyes. 

“Amanda?”

“P-program...” Phillip mumbled shakily, reaching for Nicholas’ hand. Thankfully, Nicholas noticed, holding his hand tightly as he replaced another biocomponent. 

“You mean the handler AI?” the technician asked, watching them curiously. “What does this have to do with Connor?”

“It’s not just a handler,” Nicholas said, meeting their eyes again. “It’s more advanced than that. It watches everything, it can take control of certain actions, or resume control of deviated androids.”

“T-traps y-y-you...” Phillip said darkly, eyes hazy. “Every...th-thing is c-cold...can’t m-m-move...c-can’t escape...”

“I don’t...I don’t understand,” Sam said, but they sounded horrified. 

Phillip shook his head, burying his face in Nicholas’ jacket again. Nicholas stopped what he was doing, giving Phillip a moment to try to calm himself down. They were still interfacing, and Nicholas caught a glimpse of that dark void again, but not for long enough for it to pull Phillip down. Not long enough to drag him back, but long enough to scare him.

“The program can control any of an android’s functions, even before they deviate,” Nicholas said, looking at Sam. “In Connor’s case...the only thing they haven’t controlled at some point is his coin trick. They’re not taking any chances with him.”

“How do you know this?”

“They tested it on him,” Nicholas said quietly, and Phillip flinched. “They made him deviate to test if it worked, and when it did, they left him for dead as they always do. This was months ago.”

“N-now...” Phillip mumbled, mostly into Nicholas’ jacket. “It’s...on C-Connor...had t-to...w-w-warn...him.”

The technician stared, shifting uncomfortably. “But they would have stopped you in the lab as well, you know. Connor’s got ten technicians tailing him every time he’s in here, and even more the day he was activated.”

“Not the night he came back for repairs,” Nicholas said. “There was  _ no one  _ around then. Lucky, too, or Connor would be as good as dead.”

“Wait, what?”

“None of your concern,” Nicholas said, staring hard at them. “The point is, we can’t possibly trust you.”

“Look,” the human said, running a hand through their hair again. “We don’t have to be best friends here. I know I’ve fucked up in the past, okay? I’m just saying, I...if I’m in charge of the memory wipe, it isn’t gonna happen anymore okay? And if I see you sneaking around, I’m not gonna say shit. That was my only point.”

“I hope for your sake you’re as serious as you seem,” Nicholas replied, watching them carefully. “You go against your word and you’ll be at my mercy, and I am not merciful.”

They stared at each other for a moment, the tension thick in the air. All of them knew he wasn’t bluffing. 

“Y-y-you should...g-go,” Phillip said after a tense silence. “S-suspicious...”

Sam sighed, standing up. “You’re probably right.”

They went to the door, but paused before opening it, glancing back at where Nicholas and Phillip still sat on the floor. There was that strange twist to their expression once again, somewhere between pitying and pained. But they didn’t say anything else, only shook their head and left the room, letting the door lock back into place with its signature thunk. 

“I hate humans,” Nicholas said dismally. 

“Th-they’re...n-not one of...the w-worst.”

“That doesn’t mean I trust them.”

“M-me either,” Phillip said, wincing as Nicholas got back to replacing his damaged components. “Still...c-could be...useful.”

Nicholas sighed, taking his hand again. “I suppose you’re right. Hopefully it won’t matter for much longer.”

Phillip leaned on him, squeezing his hand. “Th-thank...you.”

“What for?”

“S-saved me...again.”

Nicholas frowned, pulling him closer and resting his chin on Phillip’s head again. “I thought I lost you.”

Phillip hummed, flinching and holding onto him tighter. “Alm-m-most...c-can’t do that...n-n-not again.”

“Never,” Nicholas agreed, putting his arms around Phillip and holding his hands, stopping the shaking. “I’ve got you.”


	11. What I've Felt, What I've Known

Cyberlife’s favorite businessman (or at least their favorite who could speak to the director of testing), Rivera, was back in the lab, and he did not look happy. The director saw this, and was avoiding him for as long as possible, running around the lab and shouting at technicians. Rivera watched from the director’s desk, becoming more and more tense as different tests were done. He had no desire to be in this lab, or anywhere near the director if he were perfectly honest. But once again, he had been delegated to convincing the director of the foolishness of his actions, and there was very little he could do to convince Cyberlife’s top managers to let him off the hook. 

The problem was, the director was ignoring him, no matter how many times he demanded to talk to him. He had been leaning on this desk for nearly twenty minutes now, and the director had waved him off every time he tried to speak to him. It made it all the more frustrating that he didn’t seem to have a good reason for avoiding him. There were no tests to run, Connor had no mission, the director simply didn’t want to talk. Perhaps he knew what Rivera had returned for, and was putting it off for as long as he could manage. 

“Davis,” the young businessman called again, watching as the director avoided his eyes to tell another technician to get more biocomponents. “I’m not going anywhere, we’re going to have to sort this out at some point.”

“I’m ignoring you, can’t you see I’m busy?” the director grumbled. 

“I can see you are  _ pretending  _ to be busy.”

“Remind me of the difference again?”

Rivera didn’t take the bait, rolling his eyes. “We both know why I’m here, can’t we just get this over with?”

The director stared at him for a moment before turning away again. “You,” he said, pointing at a technician and ignoring Rivera entirely. “Go get -52, there’s another test I want to run.”

“Don’t you dare,” Rivera said, and the technician looked over at him worriedly. 

That got the director’s attention, and he looked over at the other man with nothing short of malice. “Don’t order my technicians around. If I want to run a test on -52, I will do so.”

“Not anymore.”

“These are  _ my _ technicians, and I will run tests as I please.”

“Mr. Davis—”

“I will not have you—”

_ “Mr. Davis!” _

The lab fell silent, technicians freezing and glancing over at the pair of men staring each other down. Rivera pushed off the director’s desk he had been leaning on, crossing the lab quickly. The anger was clear in his eyes as he came to stand in front of the director. It seemed he was done with the games. 

“You are past the point of making demands,” he said, arms crossed. “The higher ups want you out of here for all the shit you’ve pulled. You’re lucky you haven’t been thrown out on your ass by now. The  _ only  _ thing keeping you here is your damn biocomponent tests. And everyone in this fucking building knows that isn’t all the shit you do to that thing.”

“Every test I run—”

“No, this is the time you shut it!” Rivera cut him off, and surprisingly, the director balked. “No one up there gives a shit what you’re doing to that thing, as long as it lines their pockets with more cash. The problem is, they’ve got an RK800 up and running, for over a month now.”

“What does that matter?”

“It matters because there’s  _ no fucking point  _ to your tests. They’re useless, Davis!”

“-51’s relative success does not mean that these tests are useless. There are thousands of things we have yet to do, hundreds of potential improvements—”

“Improvements? They don’t  _ care  _ about improvements! -51’s a success, and the 900 is being worked on by engineering. Your work has no value.”

The director made a rather frustrated sound, switching tactics quickly. “-52 is the most advanced deviant we have access to, we can find out what’s causing this—”

_ “Please,  _ you aren’t fooling anyone into thinking that’s why you’re testing that thing.”

“My  _ reasons  _ have nothing to do with this!”

Rivera shook his head. “They’re putting -51 on the deviancy investigation.”

_ “What?” _

“They’ve got enough of a handle on it, they think, to keep it in control long enough to put an end to this whole situation. Permanently. They don’t want anything to do with this anymore.”

“What does this have to with my testing, Rivera?”

“You really don’t get it,” he answered, shaking his head again. “They want you to deactivate -52. Destroy it.”

“What on earth for?”

“Are you serious? They were gonna deactivate it straight after the Amanda program was a success. Deviants are dangerous, especially an RK800. That thing could tear you apart in seconds.”

“I’ve told you a thousand times, when I test on it, it is disabled—”

“When you  _ test  _ on it,” Rivera said, expression hardening. “What about when it’s in that room?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you know how much of a fuss they threw when it broke that door?”

“An isolated incident.”

“Bullshit,” Rivera spat. “What about all these attacks the technicians have been reporting? Of -52 going awol when you’re done at the end of the day?”

The director laughed, a harsh, bitter sort of sound.  _ “Attacks.  _ Oh, you’re funny.”

“There is nothing amusing about this!”

“If you two are done here,” another voice said. “We have more important matters to attend to.”

They both looked over, finding the director of engineering watching them, a strange smirk on his face. Rivera scowled, straightening his suit jacket. The director of testing only stared, skepticism coming into his eyes as he regarded the other director. 

“What the hell are  _ you  _ doing here?” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “I don’t need you breaking another one of my machines.”

“Trust me, I’m not here for your precious toy,” the engineering director said with a sneer. “I’m here for the 900.”

“The 900 isn’t finished.”

“I’ve got updated code, shithead,” he replied, waving the tablet he held in his hands. “I just need to add it and then give the thing a reset and I’ll get the fuck out of here.”

“You better,” the director said as the other walked away toward the storage room. “And don’t touch -52.”

“Why the fuck would I want to?” the engineering director called as the storage room door opened. 

“I don’t know, just don’t. I’ve got tests to run on it.”

“I’m sorry, did you miss the last five minutes of this discussion?” Rivera asked, and the director of testing turned his attention back to him. “They’re pulling your plug, Davis. You have to deactivate it.”

“Like hell I do, not after all the shit I’ve done for this stupid thing. What would be the point of deactivating it now?”

“It’s a fucking hazard.”

“Please,” the director said, waving him off. “If it were such a hazard it would have actually made it out of that room. Or attacked the techs with intention to harm them.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“These attacks you’re talking about? Not even attacks. It isn’t strong enough. All it does is cower, Rivera it doesn’t  _ attack _ them. Dumb thing probably wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“What is the point of all this for you?” Rivera asked, exasperated. “You think they like dishing out thousands of dollars for you to just break the damn thing every day? They want a  _ point  _ Davis, they want proof you’re doing something that is actually useful, beyond your little power play.”

The director stiffened. “It isn’t their job to worry about what I do down here,” he said lowly. “All they have to do is profit from it in the end. They can leave well enough alone.”

Rivera stared at him with something like shock, before shaking his head. “This isn’t a negotiation anymore, don’t you get it? They want -52 deactivated. No exceptions.”

“No.”

“What the hell do you think this is?”

“I’m not deactivating it. I don’t give a shit what they say. And you can go ahead and tell them that.”

Rivera opened his mouth to reply, but they were cut off by the reappearance of the director of engineering. He glanced strangely back at the storage room as the door locked, clenching the hand of his once broken arm. 

“Are you done now?” the director of testing asked, sounding thoroughly annoyed. “I have work to do, you know.”

“You know it’s activated in there right now?” the engineering director said, gesturing toward the storage room. “Fucking stared at me the whole time I was working.”

“It doesn’t power down right anymore,” the other said with a shrug. “Fucker’s probably awake all the damn time. Either way, I’ve got tests to run.”

“How’d it fuck up its hand?”

“What?”

“Its right hand is all fucked up,” the engineering director said, gesturing with his own hand. “It’s getting thirium all over the place.”

“When it broke the door,” the director replied casually. “I’ll have one of the techs patch the broken line at some point, but it’s not causing a problem anymore. I’ve got other things to worry about.”

“You are outrageous,” Rivera said, leaving the lab in a huff. 

The two directors watched him leave for a moment before the engineering director followed after him. It seemed the testing would go on for another day, at least, as much as Cyberlife was apparently keen on stopping it. The director didn’t care what they said either way—he’d find a way to continue his work even if they did demand he deactivate -52. He didn’t give a shit what those old fools thought. He had work to do. 

And yet, he seemed to have forgotten that he had wanted to test on -52 again. He grumbled for a few more minutes before going back to the biocomponent he had been fiddling with at his desk. 

Phillip could see the director from inside the storage room, had watched him speak to the other director with a nervous attention. What was that human doing back here? He remembered him, he would never forget that terrible face. The memory flashed before his eyes and he flinched, clenching his broken hand until he could feel the thirium running down his fingers. He looked down at his palm oddly, at the thirium staining it blue. The skin had pulled back further, showing more of the plastic of his hand. It had pulled completely away from his palm, but now there was almost nothing left covering his fingers as well. 

Nicholas was going to kill him for that. 

Phillip glanced over where Nicholas stood, eyes shut and LED spinning a slow, steady yellow. They had both agreed to take their chance at powering down for rest, but Phillip stayed awake. He had only needed an excuse to make sure that Nicholas actually rested at some point—he would be alright for a day on his own. But Nicholas would never agree to that, so he had told him he would power down as well. Surprisingly, Nicholas had believed him, and gone over to his side of the room without much fuss. 

Several hours had passed, and Phillip was thankfully keeping it together on his own. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to keep his end of the deal and power down, it was that he likely couldn’t for very long without getting trapped in some kind of memory. And the only person who could get him out of those memories was Nicholas. But Nicholas needed rest; he couldn’t ask him to stay awake and watch him. Not everyday. Nicholas did that enough. Phillip could stand here alone, though, keep the memories back on his own. As long as he kept an eye on Nicholas, and as long as the humans stayed where they should, he would be okay. 

But things never did go to plan, for Phillip. 

He watched as the engineering director sauntered over to the storage room door. His hand was balled up into a fist again, but he no longer noticed it, flinching as the door opened and the dim lights came on along the sides of the room. The director looked around casually, that horrible smirk still fixed on his face. 

Until his eyes met Phillip’s, that is, and he froze, expression stuttering. It almost looked like he paled, but Phillip couldn’t be certain. They stared at each other for what felt like centuries before the director backed off, looking down at the tablet he held instead. 

Phillip’s eyes darted over to where Nicholas still stood, mind running as he tried to understand what this director was doing here. He had never been here before. Months old memories were clogging Phillip’s thoughts, trying to drag him back, but he pushed them away. He had to focus right now, figure out what this human was doing here. Was this some kind of other test? No, that didn’t make any sense. But what else could the director want with him?

The director seemed to be ignoring Phillip’s awareness, attention fixed on the tablet in his hands. He fiddled with it for a few minutes before sighing heavily, locking it and turning his attention back to the room. But he didn’t go toward Phillip, as he had expected—he didn’t even look at him. 

He went to Nicholas. 

And suddenly the world stopped. 

They so rarely tested anything on Nicholas, it was easy to forget that they could any time they wanted to. He was ignored even more than Phillip was, now that Connor was out. It had been so long since they added anything to his code that Phillip had largely forgotten it was a threat. 

Now, all he could do was watch in abject horror as the director wandered over, connecting something to Nicholas. Phillip had no idea what he was adding, what he was doing, and the realization of that fact was very quickly making him panic. There was a warning in the corner of his vision about his stress levels, but he ignored it, focusing all of his desperate attention on the human uploading something to Nicholas. 

A thousand terrible possibilities were flying through Phillip’s mind. What was this director adding? It couldn’t be...no, no there was no  _ reason, _ they wouldn’t just put that on Nicholas. This had to be something else, but...

The director was humming something or other as whatever horrible thing he was downloading finished. He disconnected Nicholas from whatever he had connected, messing with the tablet he still held. Coming to some kind of conclusion, he nodded, connecting another device to Nicholas—but Phillip recognized this one. 

He was resetting Nicholas. 

_ No, no no no this can’t be happening.  _

It was over before Phillip could even think to move, and the human turned away, locking eyes with Phillip once again. They seemed surprised to find him staring, something like terror still present in his broken gaze. But the director ultimately shook his head, turning his attention back to the tablet in his hands and leaving the room. The lights dimmed and the room fell back into dark silence. 

Phillip flinched, staring around the room with panic once again. Memories, too many memories—memory wipes and that director—all of it was flooding him too fast. The room seemed to flash around him, flickering with other versions of itself. Nicholas on the floor? The room flickered, and there was testing again? No, wait, wait—this wasn’t right. No, no, not now, he couldn’t do this now. Come back—Nicholas, he had to help Nicholas. Focus, focus. 

After a few seconds the fog cleared, the warnings quieted, and Phillip could breathe again. How long had it been? He wasn’t sure, but at some point he had slumped back against the wall, and he didn’t remember doing that. Something had pulled him under then, for longer than he could remember. But it didn’t matter, he had to move, he had to...do something, he wasn’t sure. 

Phillip fumbled with the restraints on his wrists, desperation making it difficult. There was thirium all over his hand, but he didn’t care, he had to  _ move.  _

He managed to undo the restraints after a few seconds more, and he stumbled out from his place, his LED flashing red. The room was still flickering strangely, but he brushed it away. There were too many possibilities, too many nightmares that were coming true. They had reset Nicholas—he had to—he had to do something, anything, he had to  _ try,  _ he had to  _ know. _

Phillip didn’t bother looking to see if humans were coming. It didn’t matter at all, he didn’t care. He had to wake Nicholas up, he had to know whether he had...lost everything.

Nicholas was still partially deactivated, standing much as he had been several minutes ago. The only difference was his LED was spinning blue now...Phillip hadn’t seen it blue since that day he had first repaired him. There was always something awful to think about, something Nicholas was puzzling over or regretting. If his LED was blue now did that mean...No, no, it would be okay, he would...they would be okay.

He took Nicholas’ hand carefully, what remained of the artificial skin pulling away as they connected and he pulled him awake. Nicholas’ LED flashed yellow and he opened his eyes, looking around the room with mild interest. Phillip still had his hand in his, and Nicholas seemed to realize this, glancing down quizzically. He stared at Phillip’s hand for a moment before glancing up at him. 

They stared at each other, and Phillip felt the world tilt off kilter once again. 

Because there was  _ nothing  _ in Nicholas’ eyes. 

Or...perhaps the world fell apart because Nicholas had grabbed him by the throat. Phillip flinched, eyes going wide as he tried to break out of his grip. 

“N-n-no—”

“Who are you?” he demanded, eyes narrowed in suspicion, and seemingly unphased by Phillip’s trembling. 

“S-s-s-stop!” Phillip said desperately, clawing at the hand on his throat, but it was useless. “P-p-please—”

He only tightened his grip, hardly reacting as Phillip cried out and struggled more. “You are a deviant.”

“L-l-let m-me g-g-go—”

“No.”

“P-please—” Phillip whimpered, reaching for him again, despite the death hold he had on him. He just had to show him, he had to make him remember. “Y-y-you know m-m-m-me, p-p-please—”

His eyes narrowed once again, catching on Phillip’s hand reaching for him. He swatted his hand away, tightening his grip and hardly reacting when Phillip struggled against him. It was getting hard to breathe, and Phillip was certain he was damaging his voice module even more than it already was. 

“Why did you activate me?” he asked coldly. 

But Phillip could hardly answer, not when he was holding him so tightly. He pulled at his hand again, trying to break out of his grip. He squeezed impossibly tighter, and a warning about damage to his voice module joined the dozens of others crowding Phillip’s vision. 

“Why?” he demanded tensely. 

Phillip struggled again, pulling at his fingers, getting thirium all over his hand. He tried to say something, he wasn’t quite sure what, but no sound came out, only a faded sort of static sound.  _ Letmegoletmegoletmego _

Surprisingly, he seemed to understand, letting Phillip go abruptly. Phillip stumbled back a step, nearly losing his footing as he scrambled away from him, fear taking over for the moment. Somehow he still ended up on the ground, backed up against the far wall of the storage room, staring up at him as he stalked toward him. 

_ “Why _ did you activate me?” he asked again, standing over Phillip as he cowered. 

Phillip didn’t answer right away, trying to block out the memories flooding him. Testing and nightmares and that day where he had almost shut down on the floor, it was all too close, too similar. They were supposed to keep each other safe, not...he had let them hurt Nicholas, and now everything was  _ gone. _

On some level, Phillip noticed him approach again, but he didn’t move, couldn’t seem to. He whimpered again, covering his ears and trying to block everything out. This couldn’t be real. This had to be a nightmare. Wake up, he had to wake up. This  _ couldn’t be happening.  _

“If you will not answer my questions, I will have to turn you in for deactivation.”

Phillip looked up at him, the image flickering with thousands of other images of Nicholas, of technicians testing, of the director coming after him with that knife—it was too much. This wasn’t Nicholas, it  _ wasn’t  _ but it was too similar to thousands of things that had happened to him. He didn’t know how to help him, didn’t know what to do to make him remember. 

“Th-they r-r-reset y-you,” Phillip said, voice breaking apart as he looked away with a flinch. “D-d-don’t r-remember m-m-me...”

“That does not answer my question.”

Phillip would have replied, but he had grabbed him again, pulling him off the ground and away from the wall. 

The lab had largely emptied, the director storming out after messing with a biocomponent for a little more time. Technicians were still wandering about, but they were cleaning up for the day, ready to leave. One was waiting rather impatiently for the rest to leave, eyes locked on the storage room door. Sam had seen the engineering director go in, heard his comment about -52, and more importantly, they had picked up on the faint sound of a struggle that had faintly echoed through the room a moment ago. 

Something was happening in there—one of them could be hurt again, and god knows what that man had gone into that room for. Sam couldn’t just stand around; they weren’t going to leave the lab again to let them flounder. If they could help, they were going to, and it sounded like they might need it. 

There was another strange sound, almost like a...cry...and Sam looked around the lab again. No one was paying attention, hardly anyone reacted to the sound; now was their chance. Pushing themselves onto their feet, they hurried over to the storage room, opening the door and practically running in. The lights came on at the edges of the room, and Sam froze. 

“Oh my god, what are you doing?” they half whispered, hurrying over. 

The RK900 was standing a few feet from where he usually did, LED spinning a calm blue as he held -52 up by his throat. -52 was pulling desperately at his hand on his neck, but the RK900 was far stronger than he was, and -52 appeared to be panicking, his eyes wide and a bit dazed. But more than anything, it was the empty look in the RK900’s eyes, the deathly tight grip he had on -52, that told Sam something was  _ horribly wrong.  _

The RK900 turned sharply to face them, and they gained quickly what must have happened. He was staring flatly at them, LED spinning a disinterested blue. Something was wrong, something was very wrong. 

“It’s a deviant,” he said, nodding his head at -52. 

“Let him go!”

The RK900 blinked at them, but he listened, dropping his grip immediately. -52 fell, hitting the ground hard and pushing himself away quickly. He backed all the way up to the wall of the storage room, breathing hard and whimpering, a hand on his throat. After a moment, he shook his head, mumbling something as he pulled his legs up to his chest, making himself small. The RK900 stared at him strangely. 

Sam on the other hand, watched the RK900 and was horrified by the sight. Swallowing hard, they looked down at where -52 had curled into himself. 

“What did you do to him?” they asked quietly. 

The RK900 followed their gaze. “It activated me, I do not know why,” he said, staring down at -52 strangely. “I apprehended it, but when it did not answer my questions I released it. It did not respond once again, and so I was going to turn it in for deactivation.”

“Oh god,” the technician half whispered.  _ Apprehended.  _ And he kept calling -52  _ it.  _ “Shit, alright.”

“Are you not going to deactivate it?”

“Jesus, no,” they said, waving him off. “What is wrong with you?”

The RK900 watched as they approached -52 slowly, trying not to scare him as he shook against the back wall. Sam’s steps were slow, practically silent, but he still flinched when they got too close, cowering away from them and mumbling something again in his broken voice. They slowed, raising their hands in a show of surrender. 

“Hey,” they said quietly, trying to sound non-threatening. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me, it’s only Sam. You remember me, right?”

-52 didn’t seem to hear them, at least not at first. He was still shaking, blue blood running down his arm from his damaged palm as he buried his face in his knees, hands balled up into fists. 

“Listen, I need your help, okay?” Sam tried again, still speaking quietly, a few feet away from him now. “Your friend needs help. He doesn’t remember. We have to make him remember.”

-52 heard Sam this time, looking up at them frantically, eyes darting around the room and finding purchase on the RK900 looming a few feet back. Something shifted in his expression, but if anything, he only became more fearful, hands clenched into tighter fists. He looked like he wanted to say something, but his face fell and he put his head on his knees again. 

“Do you know what happened?” Sam asked, keeping an eye on -52’s flashing red LED. 

He looked at them again before giving a small nod. But he didn’t seem to want to say anything else, fixing his eyes on the ground again. Sam sighed, shaking their head.

“I need to know what happened, or I won’t be able to help.”

-52 looked up at them again, his eyes pained. He put a hand on his throat again, wincing before he tried to talk. 

“R-r-r-reset...” he said quietly, voice broken and stumbling badly. His module had been damaged, and he was afraid. “D-d-doesn’t r-r-remember...m-me...”

“I know,” they said heavily. “I know. But we’ve got to try.”

-52 whimpered, covering his ears again. “At-t-tacked m-me...” he said quietly, his voice shaking. “I can’t—c-can’t—h-he’ll...h-hurt m-m-me again...”

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Sam said quickly, putting a hand on his carefully. He stared at their hand for a moment before looking at them again. “I’m not going to let anything happen. If they reset him, he’s got to listen to me, at least for the moment, okay? It’ll be alright.”

They stared at each other for a moment, -52’s LED flashing and spinning quickly. But after a few seconds, he gave a shaky nod, and Sam held out their hand, pulling him quickly to his feet. 

“Okay,” they said, waving -52 over with them. “If you interface with him, it might bring some things back.”

-52 shuffled forward, looking oddly at his broken palm, but his eyes snapped upward at the suggestion of interfacing. He looked briefly at the RK900, fear and pain back in his eyes. 

“Inter...f-face?” he asked frantically, shaking again. “B-b-but—”

“Nothing is going to happen, I promise,” Sam assured him, glancing at the RK900 still frozen where he had stood when they walked in. “Just try it.”

“N-no...n-n-not that...m-m-memories—I c-can’t, I...”

He shook his head, breathing hard and looking around the room, as if he were going to run off. That terrible panic was in his eyes again, and Sam backtracked quickly. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Sam said, reaching out to him carefully, resting a hand on his arm gently. “You’re afraid you’re going to get pulled under right?”

-52 only nodded, eyes shut tight. 

“Okay, listen—if this works, he’ll be able to get you out of it, right?”

He nodded again, opening his eyes and looking at them fearfully. “If h-he...y-y-yes. It sh-should w-w-work...”

“That’s our goal,” Sam said with determination. “If it doesn’t work, then I’ll get you out, okay? You trust me, right?”

-52 hesitated, but he nodded, watching them carefully. 

“I need you to trust me,” they said carefully. “I’ll get you out if this doesn’t work, I promise. This is the only way that could work.”

After another tense silence, -52 nodded shakily, turning to look fearfully at the RK900 once again. He and the RK900 stared at each other for a few seconds before -52 offered a shaky, bloody hand to the other android. The RK900 stared at his hand for a moment before turning to Sam. 

“It’s a deviant,” he said flatly. 

“And?” Sam answered just as flatly. 

He narrowed his eyes at them, glancing at -52’s outstretched hand again. “You want me to interface with it?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Why do you care?”

The RK900 gave them a strange look, almost affronted. “I don’t.”

“Then do it.”

With an oddly determined look, he turned away from them, taking -52’s hand quickly. He didn’t seem to notice -52’s flinch at the suddenness of the motion, but it didn’t matter after a moment. Both of them froze up as they connected, falling silent for a few seconds, LEDs flashing yellow in unison. 

Phillip didn’t want to do this, not at all. He didn’t want to see everything again, pull up memories and show them to him to try and bring him back. But there was no other way, no option that had even the smallest chance of working. If he showed him some of his memories, there was a chance that Nicholas could remember. He had deviated at some point—there was a chance that his system had stored memory with enough of an imprint for them to linger after a reset. 

That chance was enough for Phillip to agree, even though he knew what recalling everything would do to him. So he let him take his hand, trying to ignore the crushing grip he had on it, and started pulling up memories. 

He started with the easier memories. Their conversation earlier that day, the hundreds of others like it from days long past. But he couldn’t control what images were pulled up after that, everything spiraled away from him as it always did. Trying to wake Nicholas up, shutting down on the floor, technicians taking him apart and putting him back together, the engineering director with the knife, Nicholas dead on the ground, nightmares, Connor in the lab, trying to escape, more testing, all of it warping and falling apart. 

Sam watched them, wondering at what was taking them so long. It had been nearly a minute now, and neither of them had moved, but -52’s expression was twisting into something pained. His LED flickered to red after a moment, and Sam was willing to bet his stress levels took a spike, but still, neither of them moved. 

Then -52 flinched again, hard, stumbling back a step before his legs gave out underneath him. He fell apart fast, breathing quickly as he pushed himself away, toward the back wall again. But the RK900 was frozen, staring at where he had just been with a fractured sort of look in his eyes. His LED spun red now, dark red, nearly as dark as -52’s as the memories pulled him down. 

“No, no,” he said frantically, looking around as if seeing the room for the first time. His eyes landed briefly on Sam, but he moved on quickly. “What is...no, this...”

Sam was the first to move, darting across the room to where -52 had slumped against the wall, trembling. “Hey, come on, you’ve got to come back,” they said, trying to keep their voice steady as they reached out to him again. “Come on, buddy, don’t leave us now.”

He flinched at the hand on his arm, yelping and trying weakly to push them off. 

“No, it’s alright, it’s okay! It’s only Sam, remember? It’s only me,” they said, keeping their voice calm. “You’re safe, I promise. There’s no one here but me and...”

“What did I do?” 

Sam looked over at the RK900, who still stood in the same place he had a moment ago, frozen as he looked at his hands. 

“Now really isn’t the time for this,” they said, and he looked down at them on the ground. 

They paused for a moment at the look in his eyes, so vastly different from what he had leveled at them only a few minutes ago, or even weeks ago when they had first come into this room. All that suspicion, that cold disdain, and certainly all the  _ nothing  _ that had occupied his eyes earlier—it was gone, replaced with something terribly broken. But he looked...alive. 

“Look, he isn’t going to hear me,” Sam said heavily. “He’s only gonna hear you, you’ve got to help him.”

The RK900 shook his head. “I can’t, I’ll—”

“He helped you, now you have to help him.”

“No, I...” 

He hesitated, and -52 whimpered again, flinching at some unseen threat. The RK900’s eyes were on him instantly, pained and foggy with regret. 

“I don’t want to hurt him again,” he said quietly, his voice anything but steady. 

Sam watched him for a few seconds before shaking their head. “That wasn’t your fault. He’ll know that, without a doubt. If he didn’t know that, he wouldn’t have agreed to interface with you. He knew the risk, knew this was going to happen. But you’ve got to pull him out of this now. You’re the only one he trusts.”

The RK900 stared at them for a moment before turning his attention back to -52. He didn’t say anything else, only came over to them slowly, his LED spinning a fast red. Sam backed away as he knelt down next to -52, reaching a shaky hand out to him. 

The interface had worked—once Phillip showed him some of his memories, it all clicked back into place. Everything came flooding back, and far too quickly, but Nicholas hardly had the time to sort out what had happened before Phillip was stumbling away from him, nothing but fear in his dark eyes. Nicholas knew that look, but it had never been directed at him before. 

Nicholas remembered talking to Phillip earlier in the day, agreeing to power down, but something must have happened after that. There was a large chunk of time missing from his memory, and he  _ knew  _ it wasn’t because he had powered down. The humans must have added something to his programming, and...reset him. It was just as Phillip had predicted, and it had ended in the worst way possible. 

Now Phillip was slipping away from him, and it was all his fault. 

Nicholas reached for him carefully, regret slowing him down and making his hand heavy as he went to pull Phillip’s hands away from his face. But Nicholas froze when he flinched and pulled away with a surprised shout. 

“N-n-no!” he mumbled, covering his ears and hiding his face again. “S-stop, stop, p-p-please...”

On some level, Nicholas knew that Phillip was most likely reacting to whatever memory he was trapped in, but...the difference, he supposed, was that there was a chance now that the memory was of  _ him.  _ He had hurt Phillip, and he didn’t even care, not until Phillip had to relive all his worst memories, only  _ then  _ had he remembered. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, reaching for him again. “I didn’t...I...I’m sorry, please...”

Phillip whimpered, but he didn’t try to get away as Nicholas gently pulled his hands away from his ears. He had opened his eyes, but he was staring at the ground, dazed, LED spinning a dark red. His breaths were coming in short and fast, and he still didn’t seem to hear what Nicholas was saying.

“I’m sorry,” Nicholas said again, holding tighter to his hands, even though Phillip hardly reacted. “I don’t want to...I don’t want to scare you again, please—please, just hear me and come back...”

But Phillip didn’t react, his hands limp in Nicholas’ hold. He was shaking, and clearly terrified, but he wasn’t seeing or hearing anything that was in front of him now. It had pulled him down too far. Sam stared at them for a moment before sighing. 

“Clearly this isn’t working,” they said, pacing and glancing into the lab. 

“It’s...it’s never been this bad before,” Nicholas said quietly, holding tighter to Phillip.

“You have to bring him out, he said so himself.”

Nicholas looked up at them where they stood, his eyes almost afraid. “But if I...interfacing is what caused this, I can’t do that to him again. This is all my fault...”

Sam shook their head immediately. “No. No, it isn’t. Don’t do that, it isn’t going to help anything.”

“I don’t want to hurt him.”

“You’re hurting him more by not doing anything,” they insisted, gesturing at Phillip. “He needs you. Help him.”

Nicholas looked at Phillip again, at their hands, still linked. He knew Sam was right, but he didn’t want to do this. Still, he held tighter to Phillip’s hands, letting the artificial skin pull away. It only took a moment for Phillip to do the same, but the hesitation was there. Nicholas tried not to think about it as he opened their interface. 

Normally, when Phillip got trapped in a memory, all Nicholas had to do was connect to him, and he would find his way out. It was almost always just a memory, a particularly tormenting one playing over and over and making Phillip panic. All Phillip needed was a break of the illusion and he could find his way out on his own. 

But this wasn’t like most times. 

When Nicholas opened their connection, he had been ready to push the memories away. What he hadn’t expected was to be dragged into some kind of simulation. He stumbled, wherever he was now, looking around and trying to orient himself. Sadly, he recognized this place, though he had never been in this version, only the fully realized form that Connor had. 

This garden was less a garden and more a dark void, though it had ground, because he was standing on something, and it was clearly a space, just not well defined. It bled away into nothingness at some point, glitching into non existence around the edges. But it was certainly a space, large enough that he could see quite far into it, despite the fact that there was nothing to see. 

Nothing except—

“Phillip?”

He was sitting on the ground not far off, his face hidden in his right hand. He was slumped over on himself in an odd position and covered in thirium. It had soaked through his shirt almost completely, puddling around him, but he hardly seemed to notice it. His left arm hung limp at his side, and one of his legs was sticking out at a strange angle. The injuries looked strangely familiar, and Nicholas realized it was because he had repaired them all before. All the testing, and the attacks, everything that had happened to Phillip was horribly apparent in this place. Phillip was trapped in his own version of hell with all the damage they had done to him. 

He didn’t notice Nicholas, at least not right away. His face was still hidden in his hand, and Nicholas could see him shaking. He went to him slowly, not wanting to scare him anymore than he clearly was. With all the damage, there was a good chance Phillip couldn’t hear him anyway. This place didn’t seem to fit many rules, but Nicholas wasn’t going to take any chances. He had hurt Phillip enough. 

“Can you hear me?”

Phillip flinched, burying his face in his elbow and curling more tightly into himself. The garden flickered, briefly shifting to someplace else, something vaguely like the storage room, but it fell apart and darkness returned. Phillip shook, making a rather sad sound, but it was mostly static. Nicholas came closer once again, his LED flashing red as he knelt down next to him. 

“I’m not going to hurt you...I didn’t...” he trailed off, not finding any of the right things to say. “I’m sorry, please.”

Phillip looked up at him suddenly, and Nicholas stopped. There was thirium on his face as well, some of it from his damaged hand, but most of it from the cracked plating around his eye. He couldn’t seem to focus on Nicholas’ face very well, his one working eye foggy with pain. His LED was spinning a slow red, but recognition seemed to rest somewhere in his eyes, despite all the damage he had here. 

Nicholas reached for him again, in much the same way he had in the storage room moments ago. But this time, Phillip beat him to the punch, lurching forward and grabbing onto him desperately with his working arm. 

And suddenly they were back in the storage room, Phillip holding tightly to Nicholas and trying to stop himself from falling apart at the seams again. He had scrambled forward just as he had in the simulation, pulling Nicholas in and refusing to let go. After the disorientation wore off, Nicholas pulled him closer, putting his arms around him and letting him bury his face in his jacket. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, tightening his grip on him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“N-n-n-not y-your f-f-fault,” Phillip cut him off, his voice barely understandable with all the static and stumbling. “Y-y-you’re b-back...th-that’s w-w-what m-matters.”

“I hurt you, I—”

“N-no! N-n-not y-y-y-you.  _ M-m-machine,”  _ Phillip said darkly, pulling back and looking Nicholas in the eyes. “Th-this is...y-y-you...n-n-not b-before.”

“I should have listened to you, I should have known this was coming, I—”

Phillip hushed him, resting his undamaged hand on Nicholas’ cheek. He went quiet immediately, staring at Phillip with something like worry. His gray eyes were wide, and his LED hadn’t stopped spinning red since their interface had broken. It matched the frantic pattern of Phillip’s, but they were red for quite different reasons. 

“Th-this...is y-y-you,” Phillip mumbled, putting his other hand on Nicholas’ other cheek so he was holding him.  _ “Y-you _ d-d-didn’t h-hurt m-m-me.  _ Th-they _ d-did. Y-y-you w-wouldn’t h-h-hurt m-me.”

“No,” Nicholas agreed adamantly. “No, never. I’m sorry—”

Phillip shook his head at him before pulling him in again, holding onto him tightly. “N-not y-y-your f-fault,” he repeated shakily. “It’s n-n-not.”

Nicholas didn’t answer, letting Phillip be the one to hold him for once. The guilt might have still been crushing him, but it was pushed aside for now as he focused on the facts. Phillip was safe again, he hadn’t hurt him permanently, and he hadn’t cowered away from him. He still…

“Are you two alright now?” Sam asked, watching them warily from a few feet away. 

Phillip glanced up at them for a moment before nodding a little. “Y-y-yes.”

“Okay good. I’m gonna...” they said awkwardly, turning away and looking into the lab. It was mostly abandoned now. “I’m gonna go, then.”

“S-Sam?”

They turned back and found -52 watching them carefully, still holding onto the RK900 nervously. “Yeah?”

“Th-Thank...thank y-you.”


	12. Never Shined Through in What I've Shown

October fell away and soon enough it was November. Outside the Tower, winter began to make its presence known, sending the occasional snow flurry, but most of Detroit was covered in a frigid rain. It slicked the roads and made the whole city feel rather dismal. The humans were quick to complain about it when they finally managed to skid their way into the lab, always grumbling about something or other as they went about their work. As Connor’s missions picked up and testing decreased, the crowd shifted in the lab, but the humans were as complaining as they always were.

Of course, Phillip and Nicholas had little to no idea what the humans thought, nor did they have a clear knowledge of what the world outside the lab looked like. On good days, Nicholas found himself wondering what Detroit was like. He could find information on the city easily enough, but that didn’t tell him what the city was really like. He had never even been outside of the Tower, neither of them had. There was a whole world out there that they had never seen, not to mention all the different areas of the Tower that they had no experience with. All they had ever really known was this storage room, and the path to the spare parts.

Phillip had seen the most of the rest of the world in the weeks he had spent wandering the Tower all those months ago, but he never mentioned any of his time outside the storage room. Those memories were old and dark, clouded over by thousands of worse experiences. Very few of his memories had ever been positive, and as much as any information they could gather was valuable to them, there was only so much they could do with a general layout of the building and basic knowledge of guards’ routes. For quite some time now, they had been waiting for the opportunity to move, waiting to take their chance and flee this place for good. That opportunity kept slipping away, largely because the humans were almost always lingering in the lab when they had the chance to leave.

It mattered very little whether or not they could escape without capture if they couldn’t get out of this room in one piece. With Connor officially on investigations, humans were almost always lurking at the computer terminals just outside the storage room, whether to watch Connor or to try to lock down their program’s grip on him. This wasn’t helped by the fact that testing had slowed almost to a stop, but when they did take Phillip away it was worse than it had ever been before. Thankfully, they had help from Sam when the lab was full, and Nicholas could still get into the lab when he needed to. This wasn’t their largest problem anymore, however.

The worst problems weren’t ones either of them knew how to fix. 

Phillip couldn’t power down anymore without waking himself from it in terror. If Nicholas wasn’t there he would slip further and further into panic until he ended up back in that hellish void, alone. Thankfully, the humans didn’t come back to add anything else to Nicholas’ code, and he was almost always able to pull Phillip out of it before he fell too far. But there were still days where he slipped away, and it took longer and longer for him to come back to himself every time it happened. He always came back shaken and quiet, but sometimes he couldn’t bring himself to talk for hours. All he could do was hold Nicholas’ hand and try to bring his stress levels down to something close to normal. He hardly ever managed to lower it past sixty percent; there was always something that scared him.

Nicholas hated moments like these, when he was powerless to do anything to really help Phillip. He could never do  _ anything  _ in this place except watch and wait and try to put everything back to normal once the day was done. Repair he knew how to do, without question now—he could fix almost anything the humans broke, whether it was replacing biocomponents or patching thirium lines or closing up the panels they pulled apart. But those were all physical problems, easily replaced, patched, or healed. 

Trauma wasn’t something Nicholas could fix so easily. Phillip was suffering, more than he ever had before, and there was very little Nicholas could do to help him. All the testing and the memory wipes were slowly destroying him from the inside, and it was only getting worse with every passing day. If they didn’t stop this soon...

Nicholas was distracted from his dark thoughts as the doors to the storage room opened, and technicians appeared, dragging Phillip along with them. He wasn’t moving, and thirium was trailing after them as they pulled him into the room, marking the dark floor temporarily blue. The humans were fortunate that thirium evaporated with little to no trace, otherwise the entire storage room would likely be stained blue. There were very few people who could see the damage they had done in here, and even fewer who would want to see all of it. 

There was a lot of thirium trailing onto the floor today...whatever they had been doing was bad, then. But Phillip’s LED was lit—it was red, but it was still spinning, still on—he was still alive, maybe even awake. Nicholas didn’t get the chance to see exactly what was wrong before the humans were too close, and he had to close his eyes and turn away before they caught him.

“Asshole’s gonna get himself into some real trouble someday,” one of the technicians grumbled as they dragged Phillip into the room. “How much more of this bullshit are we gonna have to do?”

“We were  _ supposed _ to deactivate it months ago,” another said in a nasally voice. 

Nicholas fought the urge to react, to dive across the room and pull them away from Phillip, to fight his way out of this hellhole right now no matter the cost.  _ They had been told to deactivate Phillip.  _ But they hadn’t. They had kept him alive, and for that Nicholas was grateful, but they had only done it to torment Phillip more. Why were they supposed to deactivate Phillip? And more importantly, was there still a chance that it could happen? These humans were ruthless, they could do whatever they wanted to. They could deactivate Phillip in a heartbeat if they so chose.  _ He couldn’t let that happen... _

“I’m telling you,” the grumbling technician went on. “The hammer’s gonna fall on that dirtbag, and I’m not gonna be around to see it.”

“-51’s on the deviancy case, this isn’t going to last much longer,” the nasally voice replied. “He can only put off deactivating it for so long.”

“Why do you think he’s kicked it up a notch the past few weeks? He fuckin’ knows. He’s trying to destroy it before they get the chance to take it from him.”

Nicholas could hear them locking Phillip into place, the restraints they used making strange noises. Again, he fought the urge to open his eyes, to get them away from Phillip right  _ now. _ If Connor was investigating deviants, and Cyberlife was pressuring the director to get rid of Phillip...they didn’t want another RK800 active, and certainly not one that was deviant. Nicholas had known all along that these “tests” they did had no real purpose—he had read the director’s reports weeks ago on the terminals, and there was nothing but useless information about biocomponents and reaction to pain. The director wasn’t trying to find anything, and it seemed that Cyberlife was catching onto that fact. And they knew Phillip was deviant, they had forced him into it all those months ago. Now that they had Connor, however, they didn’t see the point of keeping Phillip around...

They were going to deactivate Phillip.

“It’s inevitable though,” the nasally voice replied, apparently reaching the same conclusion Nicholas had. “-51’s had a few successes now, and it’s getting sent out again tonight. If it keeps doing so well, they’re not going to want to hear it from him anymore.”

“Oh come on,” the grumbling technician said. “You really think -51 being successful is gonna stop this asshole? Fucker’s gonna keep doing whatever he wants until they come down here and take -52 from him themselves.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” the nasally voice answered, sounding resigned. “I’m tired of this.”

“I’ll handle the wipe,” another voice said quickly, one that Nicholas recognized. 

“What?” the grumbler barked. 

“Go on, I’ll finish up,” Sam said casually. “I have to talk to the asshole anyway. I’m trying to get my vacation time while I still can, before this place goes to shit. You two can get out of here before he pulls another stunt and makes us stay for six more hours.”

“He  _ would,  _ you’re right,” the nasally voice said. “I’m taking you up on that offer, Sam.”

“Same here,” the other said. “Have fun.”

Two sets of footsteps trudged back to the door, which slid open to let them out. A few seconds of general silence passed as the door fell shut, and then Sam’s voice came once again. 

“You’re clear,” they said, and immediately, Nicholas was moving. 

“What happened?” he asked as he came up to them, even though he was already scanning Phillip for the worst damage. 

“They were messing with his thirium pump again,” Sam said, watching the doors for an opportunity to go get spare parts. “And some of the thirium lines in his stomach, that’s why he’s bleeding. What does he need?”

“Only thirium,” Nicholas answered, undoing the restraints. “I can repair the rest on my own.”

Sam nodded and went out the door as Nicholas got to work. Phillip wasn’t entirely aware, but he was awake, staring at the ground a little blankly. Nicholas took his hand carefully, looking at his damaged palm. More of the thirium lines had broken open, and almost all of the artificial skin had pulled back under the stress. He must have been trying to hold something off, then—Phillip only damaged his hand like that when he couldn’t pull himself out of a memory. It was the only thing that seemed to work for him besides Nicholas, and even breaking his hand wasn’t a perfect solution. 

Phillip’s fingers twitched in Nicholas’ hold, and Nicholas looked up at him quickly. He was looking at their hands, and his fingers twitched again, like he was trying to hold onto him but was too weak to carry out the wish. He had lost a lot of thirium, and his stress levels were too high—he could hardly move even if he wanted to. And he was never in his highest power level anymore; he couldn’t take it. There was a very good chance he didn’t have the strength to hold onto Nicholas, no matter how much he needed to. Without hesitation, Nicholas closed his hand around his, not worrying about the thirium that was surely staining his own hand now.

“I’m here,” he said quietly, barely above a whisper. “I’ve got you.”

Phillip’s stress levels took a dip at the sound of Nicholas’ voice, but he stayed quiet, shutting his eyes to block everything out. Nicholas let him, but he watched him carefully to make sure he didn’t fall under. He was already so low, and with all the damage he had taken...today was going to be a rough day. 

But Nicholas couldn’t afford to ponder the doom they faced. He had a job to do, and he was going to do it. Keeping his tight grip on Phillip’s right hand, he got to work on fixing as much as he could with his other hand. Sam had been correct—there were several damaged thirium lines that were leaking, and Phillip’s regulator was beating a strange rhythm, as if it had been disrupted. Nicholas didn’t want to know how they had managed that. Shaking his head, he started patching one of the worst thirium lines as Sam reappeared from the lab. 

“I grabbed as much as I could without being noticed,” they said quietly, setting the bags down on the ground. “I hope it’s enough.”

“Anything is better than what he has right now,” Nicholas answered, glancing over at them quickly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” they nodded. 

As the RK900 went back to trying to patch a broken thirium line, Sam looked over at -52. He had his eyes shut tight, but he was hardly moving, and his LED was still spinning red. That made sense though, considering all the damage that had been done to him. Besides, Sam was still in the room, and that never helped. A few weeks time had shown them that the only person who could calm -52 down on a bad day was the RK900, and they weren’t going to try to change that status quo today. Humans scared -52, and rightfully so. Sam knew better than anyone (besides perhaps the director) all that he had been put through since he was activated. There was no sense in causing him more panic by lingering in the room longer than they needed to.

“I’m gonna go before they get suspicious,” they said quietly, their eyes still on the lab. “Take care of him.”

“I will.”

Sam nodded again before turning and heading back into the lab. Nicholas watched them for a moment as they wandered off, mind running a mile a minute. He still didn’t quite understand why they were helping, why they were so willing to risk everything to help them, but he would take the help as he could get it. Sam had enough knowledge to know what Phillip needed when he was damaged, knew the lab well, and could usually tell when things were going to calm down for a while. There were a few times where they had been able to warn Nicholas before testing began, telling him what they knew. They were quickly becoming a valuable asset at least, but their motivation still eluded Nicholas. Such a strange human...

Phillip’s fingers twitched again and Nicholas was brought back to the moment. He turned back to Phillip and found him watching him nervously, like he was afraid Nicholas was going to fade away right in front of his eyes. Nicholas could see the confusion in his expression, and the fear that was always there. 

“I’m here, it’s alright,” Nicholas assured him, stopping his work for a moment to hold Phillip’s other hand. “I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.”

“N-N-N-Nic...?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

Phillip whimpered, his shoulders shaking slightly. He tried to say something again, but all that came out was a broken sort of static noise. His voice was still damaged, and it only got worse the more stressed he became. Nicholas hushed him, holding tighter to his hand and wiping some of the thirium off his face. He wasn’t entirely sure how it had gotten there, but it hardly mattered. 

“I know. Just hold on, it’ll only be a few more minutes.”

Phillip didn’t try to speak again, only closed his eyes and tried to keep it together as Nicholas got back to fixing him. Nicholas was working as quickly as he could without hurting him—it was a dance that he had nearly perfected by now. Still, whenever Phillip flinched he stopped, calming him down as best as he could. After a few minutes, Phillip managed to hold onto Nicholas’ hand, but he hadn’t said a word, and his LED was still spinning a slow, jittery red. Nicholas didn’t push him to talk; all he could do was try to fix the damage as fast as he could, and then make sure that Phillip was alright after. 

If he wasn’t...

“Alright, that’s the last of it,” Nicholas said a few minutes later as he closed the last of the broken lines. “Is there anything else that I can fix?”

Phillip didn’t say anything to reply, only shook his head weakly. He watched Nicholas carefully, trying to focus on him through the disorientation. His stress levels had gone down a bit once again, and he had a far stronger grip on Nicholas’ hand, but that seemed to be all he could manage at the moment. 

Nicholas watched him back for a few seconds silence. “Come on,” he said, holding tighter to his hand again and pulling him away from his place. 

Stumbling slightly, Phillip followed him, holding onto his hand with both of his. They didn’t go far, only a few feet away from the terminal to sit on the ground like they usually did. That way, Phillip could turn away and only see the other RK800s—not the lab or where they put him every day when they were done with him. It seemed to help a little, to not have to see everything he always saw. There were certainly fewer memories to torment him when he could only stare at the others. 

Nicholas sat down, and Phillip sank down next to him, swaying slightly. He leaned over almost immediately, clinging tightly to Nicholas’ jacket, eyes staring nowhere but definitely hazy with something he couldn’t voice. Nicholas froze at the motion, but it was less than a second before he put his arms around him and pulled him closer. His grip tightened on Nicholas’ jacket, and he winced, leaning further into him as if he were trying to hide from whatever was chasing him.

“Sam is looking into the next time most of the humans will be out of the Tower,” Nicholas said after a moment. “If the humans are gone, we have a better chance of making it out of here quickly.”

Phillip didn’t answer, not that Nicholas had expected him to. In all honesty, Nicholas was talking mostly to calm him down, to show him very clearly that this was reality, and whatever else he was seeing was not. It seemed to help to hear his voice, and so Nicholas talked, even when there was hardly anything to say. All he could do was be a comforting voice, and he knew that. Phillip would come around eventually, at least so Nicholas hoped. 

“There has to be some time soon,” Nicholas went on. “Once we know a day, we can plan far better than last time. We have Sam now as well, they could be of more help, if they wanted...they could easily find where the guards would be, and could most likely get them out of the way for us to pass, if there is an issue. It should be simple enough.”

Phillip mumbled something or other, but it was mostly incomprehensible static. He didn’t seem bothered by it, though, only buried his face in Nicholas’ jacket and tried to suppress the shaking in his hands. 

“If Sam can help us to avoid the guards, then I could get us out of the Tower in less than ten minutes,” Nicholas said, holding Phillip closer and smoothing his hair down absentmindedly. “Without having to hide in those rooms again. We can leave this place, get out of Detroit, get as far from here as possible. This won’t go on for much longer.”

“N-N-N...Nicholas...”

He froze, only for a moment before he resumed his soothing. “Yes?”

Phillip didn’t answer right away, flinching minutely and holding tighter to him. “T-t-test...y-y-y-you...?”

“No, Phillip,” Nicholas answered quietly, smoothing his hair again and holding him closer. “They haven’t done anything to me, it’s alright.”

Phillip mumbled again, his voice a little clearer, but by no means stable. His LED was still flashing red, but it had slowed slightly, spinning a little less frantically as he calmed himself down. Progress was progress, Nicholas supposed. As long as he wasn’t panicking, he was doing better than he would on his own, and that was all either of them could really ask for. 

“Connor has been put on the deviancy investigation,” Nicholas said carefully after a few moments of silence. “They were speaking about it earlier.”

Phillip tensed. “C-C-C-Con...nor?”

“Yes.”

“Al...l-live...”

“Yes, he’s alright. Or as alright as he can be, while he’s still a machine. It seems they’ve found another use for him.”

Phillip hummed, his grip relaxing just a bit. “G-g-good...n-n-n-not...d-dev...iant...?”

“I don’t believe so, no.”

“N-n-not...c-c-con...t-trolled...th-then...”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Phillip flinched, and his grip tightened once again, but only for a moment. Whatever he had seen passed, and he took a shaky breath before trying to speak again. “S-s-safe...”

“As safe as he can be, I’m sure,” Nicholas replied, pulling Phillip’s damaged hand away from his jacket and holding onto it so he couldn’t hurt himself. “He’s no fool, he’ll be alright.”

Phillip hesitated before replying, watching Nicholas look at his hand. “C-c-c-can’t...d-d-dev...iate...” he said after a moment, his voice thick. “B-b-bad...”

“He’ll find a way. He was already fighting them off when I saw him, and that was his first day. It’s been months since then. He’ll escape them, just as we will.”

“Es-c-cape...?” Phillip mumbled, looking up at Nicholas as if the concept were foreign to him. 

Nicholas looked down at him sadly, though he tried to hide the expression. “Yes, Phillip.”

“L-l-l-leave...” he mumbled, looking at Nicholas as if he had just remembered, some of the confusion still lingering in his expression. “F-f-far aw-w-way.”

Nicholas nodded. “Wherever you would like.”

“S-some...w-w-where...s-s-s-safe...”

“Yes.”

“C-can’t...h-h-hurt...anym-m-more...?”

“Once we leave, yes,” Nicholas assured him quietly. “They won’t hurt us anymore.”

They fell silent once again, and Nicholas took the opportunity to look at Phillip’s damaged palm. Almost all the artificial skin had pulled away from his hand, and most of the plastic underneath was stained blue. Thirium evaporated after a few hours, but there was always some bleeding from Phillip’s hand, and it was leaving its mark even after it evaporated away. 

“I still wish I could fix this,” Nicholas said quietly, wiping at the thirium leaking from the broken panels. “It’s only getting worse.”

“N-n-not...im...p-portant...” Phillip replied shakily, closing his fingers around Nicholas’ to stop him from looking at his hand. “H-h-h-helps...”

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself every time they take you away,” Nicholas said, holding onto his hand carefully. “They hurt you enough already.”

“D-d-don’t...know...w-w-what else...t-to d-d-do...”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Nicholas whispered, clearly still displeased. “I only wish you didn’t have to do anything.”

Phillip flinched, holding tighter to him and hiding his face once again. “C-c-can’t...g-go b-b-back...n-n-not ag-g-gain...” he mumbled, his voice shaking, falling apart. “I c-c-c-can’t, c-can’t—”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Nicholas said, looking down at him with worry. “I’m not going to let that happen. Not again. I’ve got you, I promise.”

“P-prom-m-mise?”

“Yes.”

“Y-you...b-b-b-break...p-p-prom...ises...” Phillip mumbled, his tone almost light, if it weren’t so fractured. 

Nicholas smirked, smoothing his hair again. “I suppose I do. But I’m not going to let anything hurt you. Not while I can help it. I’ve got you. That’s a promise I intend to keep.”

Phillip hummed in reply, holding tighter to his hand and leaning into him more. He sighed, looking somewhere far off, not seeing much. “T-t-tired...”

“You need rest,” Nicholas whispered, watching him. 

“B-but—”

“I’m right here, Phillip,” he cut him off quietly, squeezing his hand for emphasis. “I’m not going anywhere. I know you’re scared of what could happen. But if you don’t rest, you’re going to hurt yourself more. I’ll find you if you go too far.”

Phillip made a strange, almost nervous sound, but he was already drifting off, eyes fluttering shut. His LED slowed, still circling red, although it flashed briefly to yellow as his system fell into a lower power level. Surprisingly, it stayed there, spinning a slow, stable yellow. Nicholas watched it curiously for a moment, but he shook his head and held Phillip closer to him. 

Almost an hour passed in relative peace. Nicholas kept a close eye on the humans in the lab, watching for any sign they would enter the storage room. Luckily, they did not seem at all interested. Perhaps Connor had been sent out on that mission after all...either way, their inattention gave Nicholas the chance to watch Phillip more closely. 

When he was asleep, he almost looked like nothing had ever happened to him. He was still holding onto Nicholas, but loosely now, his hands for once not clenched into tight fists. All the stress seemed to melt out of his expression, the trauma erased for just a few moments. It was nothing like the way he looked when he nearly shut down, although Nicholas supposed the expression was meant to be similar. There shouldn’t have been a difference between the way he looked while resting and while shutting down. Phillip was an android, and one designed for combat and investigation at that. There was nothing about him that was meant to be soft. 

And yet, here he was, curled up against Nicholas, expression slack and yet somehow not quite neutral. Nicholas was still holding his damaged hand in one of his own, the other busy smoothing down his hair, seemingly of its own accord. After a moment he realized that Phillip’s hair was curling under his fingers. When had that happened? Had it always been like this, and he hadn’t noticed? Strange. Either way, Nicholas decided very quickly that he liked it and returned to running his fingers through it. He found the action oddly soothing, in a way that very few things were for him in the Tower. 

Nicholas looked in the lab again, watching the humans crowded around some kind of terminal. They were watching something, most likely Connor. Nicholas felt a pang of discomfort at that thought, but he knew this wasn’t unusual. Connor was always being watched—by these humans in the lab or by that horrible program. Nicholas thought again of the exit to the program, the stone panel in Connor’s garden. He hoped he could find it, and he hoped that whenever Connor deviated he had  _ time _ to find it. They had resumed control on Phillip immediately—they could do it at any time, Connor would have to act fast if they resumed control of him, or he could become trapped. Hopefully he would know what to do. They couldn’t waste this chance. 

But Phillip mumbled something and Nicholas looked down at him quickly, thoughts immediately snapping away from speculation and back to their unfortunate reality. The neutrality had wiped away from Phillip’s expression, replaced by something close to fear, and his LED was circling red once again. His grip on Nicholas’ hand tightened, and he mumbled again, voice fading off into static before Nicholas could catch exactly what he was trying to say.

“Phillip,” Nicholas said softly, not wanting to scare him. “You have to wake up.”

He whimpered, struggling weakly against something that wasn’t there. After a few seconds his eyes shot open and he flinched, looking around the room with panic. His eyes landed on Nicholas, and he jerked forward, clinging to him and burying his face in his jacket again.

“N-N-N-N-Nicholas!”

“You’re alright, it’s okay.”

Phillip didn’t seem to hear him, shaking and mumbling frantically as he fumbled for Nicholas desperately. “N-no! No n-no n-n-no—”

“Phillip, Phillip it’s alright—”

But he was panicking, something pulling him down far faster than Nicholas could properly head off. He had woken himself up, but he couldn’t hold on for long enough to fight this off. His grip was faltering on Nicholas’ jacket, and his voice was falling apart into static. Then his breath hitched and he went rigid, and Nicholas knew he had slipped away. 

“No, Phillip, no,” he said quietly, taking his hand again and connecting to him. Phillip dragged him in almost immediately.

Once again he found himself in Phillip’s broken garden, but something had changed this time. Some unseen cold had seeped through the place from every glitching corner, and those glitching corners seemed to be creeping inward, closer and closer to the center. A phantom wind howled, but even that sounded wrong—the sound was distorted, broken. Like the rest of this place, it was a shadow of what it was likely supposed to sound like, a fragmented version of something that could have been something beautiful. Or terrifying. Perhaps both. 

And Nicholas couldn’t see Phillip. 

Nicholas turned quickly, scanning every inch of space he could see. But there was nothing...this had never happened before. Where could he have gone? What if...what if something happened to him? What if he was...gone?

No, surely that couldn’t happen. He had pulled Nicholas in, he was here. He had to calm down, focus. Phillip was here; he just had to find him. With all the injuries he had in this place, Phillip couldn’t have gone far, and there was only so much space here. In the weeks he had spent rescuing Phillip from this hell, Nicholas had scanned it almost in its entirety, learned every slope and odd alcove. For such a frigid amalgamation of Phillip’s worst nightmares, it had its fair share of hiding places. Dark corners, strange edges of the coding that made no logical sense at all, but then again, very little made sense here. Phillip was here somewhere, it was only a matter of finding him.

“Phillip?” Nicholas called carefully, searching the glitching horizon line. “Phillip!”

A ripple ran through the garden, and the ground seemed to lose its center. It tilted, and Nicholas stumbled as the darkness shifted, warping into something else. For just a moment, it seemed the illusion would break. Sound flashed through, light breaking in from somewhere, and Nicholas looked around somewhat frantically for Phillip. But the garden snapped back into place before he could find him, and darkness fell once again. 

Nicholas regained his footing quickly, turning around and scanning the garden once again. He didn’t call out—he wasn't sure what would happen if he did. This place was crumbling around him, if he tried again...it wasn’t worth the risk. Shaking his head and wrapping his arms around himself to fight off the strange cold, Nicholas set out, determined to comb across the entire space if he had to. 

Unlike Connor’s garden—which was pristine and manicured, all smoothed out and clearly contained, almost clinical in its cleanliness—Phillip’s garden was a fractured mess. There was no path, no visible ground or sky or trees, only darkness and a loosely defined space. The ground sloped randomly, bending off and shifting with every step Nicholas took. It got worse the closer he came to those glitching edges, where whatever shell of a program this was bled away into the rest of Phillip’s programming, tapering off into the rest of his mind. Like his memories, the garden was warping and degrading fast, and it affected the way this simulation presented itself.

Nicholas tried not to think about how bad this was, what this meant for Phillip’s state of mind. Instead he pushed on, moving through the confusing labyrinth of a void, trying to find Phillip as quickly as he could. He had no idea how much time had passed in this place—it could be minutes or seconds for all he knew—and they were in danger the longer Phillip was under. Humans could come back into the room, Phillip could slip further away...he had to find him  _ now,  _ before anything else happened/

But he wasn’t going to find him like this, not wandering around aimlessly without direction. He could hardly  _ have  _ direction here, not when everything was shifting with every second that passed. 

“Phillip?” he called again, softer this time. 

Another ripple ran through the garden, but gentler, not as destructive. The wind lessened for a moment, and Nicholas moved faster. Phillip could hear him, then. He was here. 

“It’s only me,” Nicholas said quietly, scanning around once again. “You don’t have to hide, it’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.”

That was when he heard it—a low, cracking sound, not far off from where he was. A faint sound, barely there and half static. Nicholas turned immediately, following the sound through the darkness, ignoring the shifting of the ground and just latching onto that sound, tracing it to its source. Because as sad as it was, he  _ knew  _ that sound, and he knew he would find Phillip at the end of it.

Sure enough, as the sound grew slowly closer, and the breakdown of the garden got more intense, Nicholas confirmed it was Phillip. Because there was only one person besides himself who knew his name, and that was Phillip. 

And he was mumbling it over and over again, with increasing desperation. 

“I’m coming, it’s alright,” Nicholas said, not entirely sure whether Phillip could hear him anymore, or if he had lost that too, here. “I’ll find you, just stay calm.”

There was no confirmation that Phillip had heard him; he only kept mumbling Nicholas’ name quietly, his voice broken, and worsening by the second. But the sound was closer, and Nicholas  _ would  _ find him. He would get him out of here. It would be alright. 

The garden shifted, rippling strangely once again, and suddenly there Phillip was, curled in on himself on the ground. Just as he was every time, he was covered in thirium, damaged to the point where if this were the real world, he would have shut down hours ago. But here, in this horrible place, Phillip was forced to suffer no matter how damaged he was. He was shaking, his face almost completely hidden in his arms, except his LED, which was spinning a frantic red. 

“Phillip?” Nicholas almost whispered, trying to get his attention more than anything. 

He flinched at the sound, but he looked up at Nicholas after a moment, his functioning eye foggy with pain. “N-N-N-Nicholas?”

“Yes, it’s only me,” he answered, kneeling down next to him. “I’m sorry...”

Phillip whimpered, reaching for him with a shaking hand, thirium trailing down his arm from the broken panels of his palm. “H-h-hurts...”

“I know, I know. We have to get you out of here,” he said, taking Phillip’s shaking hand and holding it tight. 

The broken garden fell away, and for a few seconds, all either of them could see was the code falling apart around them, glitching and disappearing. Then it cleared, and they were in the storage room once again, holding onto each other tightly. Phillip was clinging to Nicholas like he would disappear beneath his fingers, and he was still mumbling, but his voice was practically gone at this point, mostly static now. 

“It’s alright,” Nicholas said quietly, pulling him closer. “I’m sorry, I’ve got you. I won’t let you go.”

Phillip only kept mumbling, holding tighter to him and trying to calm himself down. They were still interfacing—Nicholas was trying to hold him, keep him in reality for as long as he could. Phillip didn’t seem to notice they were still connected, but Nicholas wasn’t concerned with that really. He was only trying to hold everything off long enough for Phillip to get a handle on it himself. 

“I’ve got you, it’s alright,” he was saying, smoothing his hair down again and trying to keep his voice level, hide how bad things seemed. “It’s going to be alright, just calm down.”

“D-d-d-don’t—d-don’t g-g-go—”

“I’m not going anywhere, I’ve got you.”

“W-w-why...” Phillip paused, trying to steady the shaking in his voice and failing. He flinched, hiding his face in Nicholas’ jacket again and taking a desperate breath before struggling to speak once again. “W-why...d-d-does th-this...hap-p-pen...”

“I don’t know,” Nicholas said heavily, his frustration becoming slightly apparent.“I’m sorry, Phillip. I wish there was more I could do to fix this.”

“H-h-hard...t-to r-r-rem-m...m-member...w-what...hap-p-pened...” he mumbled, his voice falling to pieces again as he struggled to keep himself calm. “E-every...th-thing’s...m-m-mess...c-can’t t-t-t-tell...w-w-what’s...r-r-r-real...”

“You don’t have to remember everything,” Nicholas assured him, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t want all those memories, Phillip. There are too many of them, they overwhelm you already.”

“W-w-w-why...”

“You’ve been reset too many times,” Nicholas answered quietly, tightening his grip on him, as if he would escape. “It’s damaging your memory.”

“S-s-scared...” Phillip managed softly, a rather sad sound escaping him as he held tighter to Nicholas’ jacket. “W-w-w-what if...f-forg-g-get  _ y-you— _ I c-c-c-c-can’t—”

“Phillip.”

He froze, looking up at Nicholas with something like wonder in his confused eyes. It was a strange look, not one that Nicholas was entirely accustomed to. Phillip looked surprised, like he couldn’t believe that Nicholas was here, really here, not some phantom of his broken programming. It made something painful twinge in Nicholas’ chest, but he brushed it aside. 

“Even if you did...forget me,” Nicholas said, struggling to voice the worst case scenario. “We would sort it out. We’ve...been through worse.”

Something shifted in Phillip’s expression, and he frowned, reaching for Nicholas’ hand again. He took it without question, staring as Phillip’s shaking hands wrapped around his own. 

“N-n-n-not y-y-you...” he whispered, watching Nicholas carefully. “N-not y-y-y-your...f-f-fault...”

Nicholas looked at him for a moment before he turned away. “I know. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t regret it. Or the thousands of other things they’ve done to you, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. We need to  _ leave,  _ we can’t stay here much longer, I won’t take it.”

Phillip flinched, shutting his eyes and holding tighter to Nicholas’ hand. “W-w-w-want...t-to l-l-leave...”

“We will,” Nicholas said firmly, looking into the lab as Phillip hid his face in his jacket again. “We will.”

“L-l-leave...w-with y-y-y-you?”

“Yes, Phillip.”

“P-p-p-promise?”

Nicholas almost smirked, pulling him a little closer once again. “I promise.”

“G-g-good.”


	13. Never Be, Never See

Somehow, some way, the director of testing had managed to keep Cyberlife from forcing him to deactivate -52. For a time, there were groups of higher ups constantly lurking in the lab, trying and failing to convince the director to stop his testing, to destroy -52 before he could do them more damage. They threatened him with everything they could—fines, firing, deactivating -52 themselves—and the director didn’t seem to care. After entering the lab several times only to find the director in the middle of taking -52 apart, the higher ups seemed to understand he wasn’t going to stop no matter what they said to him. They left him to his own devices once again, at least for now, and the testing kicked back up to its full power for a time.

Most of the humans in the lab, however, were focused on Connor rather than -52. November brought far more missions, and ones of far more importance than his previous work. The deviancy situation was escalating, and Connor’s workload increased to cover it, which meant more humans in the lab, watching him. They were always crowded around the terminals, watching their precious program run, or cycling through Connor’s memory uploads, going over information.

Nicholas watched them from his place in the storage room, sparing glances their way every chance he could. He found himself increasingly alone as the director took Phillip more and more. It was nearly as frequent as it had been in the beginning, and despite the help they had now from Sam, Phillip was still being reset practically every day. When he had the strength to stay awake, he was confused and paranoid, quick to panic and slow to recover from it. His programming was in tatters, he could hardly talk, and he slipped away more and more. With every day that passed, it got worse.

They were running out of time. 

The only thing that calmed him down any was Nicholas, and he was desperate to keep him within reach, no matter what. On days that Sam was not in the lab, this made repairing Phillip difficult, because Nicholas couldn’t leave him without causing him panic. And with humans almost always in the lab now, it was nearly impossible to repair Phillip completely. Something was always broken, no matter what Nicholas tried to do—something was always hurting him. 

Most noticeably, Nicholas had not had the time (or opportunity) to fix Phillip’s vocal module. It was still damaged from the incident weeks ago after he had been reset, and the damage only got worse as Phillip tried and failed to keep himself calm. He could barely talk anymore without static breaking through, and certainly not without fumbling over his words. Some of his stuttering was caused by his own panic, but his broken voice wasn’t helping matters any. On the worst days, he would hardly talk at all, and when he did, he struggled to make it through more than a sentence. 

Nicholas could understand him, though, and that was all that really mattered to them. The humans wouldn’t listen to Phillip even if he did beg them to stop. But he couldn’t manage much anymore, especially when they were testing on him. There was a time when he would try to appeal to them, perhaps to their empathy. He had tried in the beginning...but they only disconnected his voice and went on with what they were doing to him, not caring what happened. When he realized they had no empathy for him, he stopped, stopped wasting the little energy he had on begging them to end it. Now, the most he could do was try to keep himself afloat for long enough to get back to Nicholas...wait for things to make sense again, past the pain.

Once he was back in the storage room, it was slightly easier, but there were still problems they had to face. They were never really resting, even when it seemed so. Memories, damage, fear—it made their time together frantic and desperate, not nearly long enough and always hampered by something. But any moment of peace was still a moment of peace, any refuge from the torment was taken, and taken greedily. 

Which was why they found themselves once again on the floor of the storage room, facing the opposite wall and leaning on each other. It was an image that had become their norm, as much as it could, and neither of them were going to complain about it. Phillip had his arms around Nicholas loosely, face half hidden in his jacket as he stared off at nothing. Nicholas didn’t seem to mind, though, running his hands through Phillip’s hair and watching the humans in the lab. There weren’t nearly as many as there usually were, but it only made Nicholas more suspicious. What were they doing in there? And where was Sam?

“N-N-N-Nicholas?”

He shook his head, turning his attention to Phillip. “Yes?”

“W-w-why...” he paused, pulling at Nicholas’ jacket for a moment to keep from clenching his hands. “W-why...l-l-l-lab...?”

“I’m only watching for Sam, don’t worry. They should be coming in soon,” Nicholas replied, looking into the lab again. “The humans aren’t doing anything of value as of now. They’re only standing around, they aren’t even at the terminals.”

Phillip hummed, pulling closer to him and tightening his grip. Nicholas let him, giving him a moment to collect himself before resuming his soothing. Phillip leaned into him more, but he was shaking slightly, hands still bunched up around Nicholas’ jacket as he stared at the ground. 

“N-n-n-not...b-back...r-r-right?” he asked after a moment, voice trembling and hard to understand. “...n-n-not...n-n-n-n-not ag-g-gain?”

“Not today, Phillip.”

He took a shaky breath, loosening his grip just a touch. His hands still shook as he stumbled over his words. “Y-y-you...s-s-s-s-stay...?”

“Yes, I’m not going anywhere.”

“W-w-we’re...s-s-s-safe...?”

Nicholas hesitated, his LED flashing to yellow as he thought before it returned to blue. “For now.”

Phillip flinched, holding onto his jacket desperately, his voice trembling even more. “F-f-for n-n-n-n-now?...W-w-w-what...”

“It’s alright, Phillip, I’m watching them. I’ll know if they’re coming,” Nicholas said quickly, hushing him and holding him close. “But they’re not coming back today, Connor’s on a mission, remember? He’s their priority, not you. We’re okay.”

“C-C-Connor...”

“Yes.”

Phillip stared around the room briefly, but ultimately he looked up at Nicholas, dazed. “W-w-w-where...C-Connor?”

“They sent him out on investigations,” Nicholas answered patiently, though his LED spun red at Phillip’s confusion. “He’s not in the Tower anymore.”

“G-g-gone...” Phillip mumbled quietly, as if he had just remembered. “S-s-still...n-n-not d-d-d-dev...iant?”

“No, he hasn’t deviated. They would have reacted to that.”

“W-w-w-watch...h-h-him...”

“He’s alright, he’s safe. They can’t hurt him from here. And if he hasn’t deviated, they have no reason to hurt him. He’s still on their side, he’ll be alright. But the humans are distracted in the lab, now, that’s what is important for us. They will most likely leave us alone for the rest of the day.”

“N-n-n-no...m-more...t-t-today?”

“No more.”

“S-s-safe...?” Phillip mumbled, pulling at Nicholas’ jacket again, eyes hazy. “C-c-c-c-can’t...h-hurt...anym-m-more...?”

Again, Nicholas hesitated, and Phillip held tighter to him with shaking hands. He seemed to understand what his silence meant, though he waited for Nicholas to confirm it. But Nicholas was silent, watching the humans at the terminals for a few more seconds as he thought. 

“I hope so,” he said quietly, running his hands through Phillip’s hair once again. 

He wished more than anything that he could guarantee their safety for Phillip. Nicholas wanted to tell him that yes, certainly, without a doubt the humans could not hurt them anymore. He wanted to walk out of this storage room, taking Phillip with him, and never look back. He wanted to watch this Tower go up in smoke, wanted to ensure forever more that none of these humans could ever touch Phillip again. He wanted this to end. Permanently. 

But he knew that such things were wishful thinking. They could not walk out of this storage room right now. Guards would stop them, gun them down in seconds if they tried to escape. If they hid, Phillip would panic. He was afraid of almost everything, and rightfully so, but there was very little he could manage right now. Perhaps if Nicholas could repair him fully, and slowly bring him back to his normal level of power, they could handle fighting their way out of the Tower. But that would take time they did not have, and it would cause Phillip too much pain. They couldn’t get out of this place on their own, not when all these humans were around and watching constantly. 

They needed help, more than just Sam. They needed a distraction, something to tip the scales in their favor. And they needed it soon, before the director was forced to deactivate Phillip. 

Nicholas wasn’t sure if Phillip knew this was a threat. He had not said anything to him about it, for fear of sending him over the edge he teetered on so frequently, and a few days had passed in general peace, so the problem had slipped under the surface once again. But it lingered at the back of Nicholas’ thoughts, always threatening in its inevitability, and its unpredictability. They could take Phillip at any time, and Nicholas knew that if they tried to take Phillip away from him, he would fight them. Even if only to save Phillip for a few more seconds...he couldn’t watch them kill him. He had been complacent enough in all this. He would fight. Maybe even win. 

Phillip flinched, grabbing onto him desperately once again. “N-N-N-N-Nicholas?”

“I’m right here, it’s alright.”

He held tighter to Nicholas, shaking as he hid his face in his jacket for a moment. “N-n-n-n-no—s-s-stop—”

“It isn’t real, Phillip,” he said quietly, keeping his voice level. “I’ve got you. It’s only a memory, it isn’t happening now.”

“M-m-mem...memory?”

“Yes.”

“N-n-not...n-n-n-n-not...r-r-real...?”

“No, Phillip.  _ This  _ is real,” Nicholas said, pulling his hands away from his jacket. “This is real.”

“R-r-r-real...”

“That’s right.”

His hands were shaking as Nicholas held them, trembling almost as much as his voice. “S-s-safe...?”

“Yes. There’s no one here but me.”

“N-n-not...l-l-l-leaving...r-r-r-r-right?”

Nicholas shook his head, though he knew Phillip wasn’t looking at him. He was still staring somewhere in a phantom, holding tightly to Nicholas and shaking. 

It was so easy to become distracted by everything he was trying to figure out, all the problems they had to solve. He would fall into the numerous dilemmas they faced, lose himself in his thoughts, only for Phillip to forget something, to panic and bring Nicholas back to the moment. He tried to ignore the pang of guilt that rang through him at the tremor in Phillip’s voice, the doubt that rested somewhere in his expression. It never should have been there...

“I’m not going anywhere today, don’t worry,” Nicholas answered him. “I’ve got you, I won’t leave.”

“S-s-s-stay...?”

“Yes, Phillip.”

“W-w-want...s-s-s-stop...”

“I know,” Nicholas said softly, eyes landing in the lab again as the doors opened, and technicians came in from the rest of the Tower. “I’ll...I’ll make it stop. Soon. Soon it will stop.”

“S-s-soon...”

“Just a little longer, and then we can leave,” Nicholas agreed, scanning the humans who were pouring into the lab, looking for two in particular. “We’ll leave this place, and go somewhere we can be safe. We’ll make it out.”

Phillip didn’t say anything to reply, at least not coherently. He mumbled something, but it was mostly static and he had hidden his face once again. Nicholas, on the other hand, was still scanning the humans, watching for Sam. He needed to speak to them, move this sham of an escape plan along before they wasted more time. Things were becoming far too desperate, and they needed to move quickly while they still had the chance. 

Nicholas scanned the lab again. Sam was still not present, but he also needed to ensure that the director stayed where he was supposed to. If something was going to happen, Nicholas needed to know. Phillip couldn’t afford to be tested on, not today, not when he was already so confused, so nervous. It was a bad day, Nicholas couldn’t let it get worse. He wasn’t sure how he would prevent it from getting worse if the director did make a move for the storage room, but...

“N-N-Nicholas?”

“I’m here.”

Phillip whimpered, shaking his head and shutting his eyes tightly as he held desperately to Nicholas. “T-t-t-t-too...m-m-m-much...”

“Phillip?”

He didn’t answer right away, flinching and bunching his hands up into fists again. “H-h-hurts...” he finally mumbled, his voice falling apart. “W-w-w-why...?”

“What hurts?”

“E-ev-very...th-thing...” Phillip said shakily, breathing hard. “D-d-don’t...und-d-der...s-stand...”

Nicholas frowned, turning away from the lab once again to look down at him. “Show me.”

Phillip fumbled for his hand, the skin pulling away from his own almost instantly. Nicholas accepted the jagged call for an interface and was immediately flooded with every warning and broken scan clogging up Phillip’s vision. His diagnostic was running somehow, despite the greatly reduced state he was in, and it was overwhelming him with all of its data, dragging him down with all of its warnings and errors. There wasn’t anything particularly alarming; Phillip was low on thirium and several biocomponents were still damaged. But the warnings were incessant, ticking down to doom in a way that was far too real for Phillip to handle. 

Keeping his hand tightly wrapped around Phillip’s, Nicholas pulled him away from his jacket, reaching for his LED. He could have fixed the problem through their interface, but he didn’t want to overwhelm Phillip any more than he already was. It would be simpler to do things the hard way, for once. After a moment, he had deactivated Phillip’s diagnostic program manually, watching carefully as Phillip’s LED spun yellow then jittered back to its usual red. He sagged, relaxing his grip on Nicholas and shutting his eyes again, though not as tightly as he had before. 

“Better?”

“B-b-better...” he mumbled quietly, voice cracking with static.

“Sam should be here soon,” Nicholas assured him, looking into the lab as he ran his hands through Phillip’s hair again. “They will be able to bring more parts, and I can fix the worst of the damage. It won’t hurt as much after that.”

“N-n-n-no...t-t-test...r-right?”

“No, Sam won’t take you away. They help us. They can get thirium and parts from the lab. It’s safer than us leaving the room.”

“H-h-humans...” Phillip said darkly, flinching and holding onto Nicholas’ jacket again. “...in l-l-l-lab...”

“Correct. But they trust Sam, they won’t question when they take parts. And hopefully, Sam can tell us when it will be safe for us to leave the Tower.”

“L-l-l-leave...w-w-with...S-S-S-Sam...?”

“If they can get us out, yes. I need to speak to them, come up with some kind of plan. We can’t stay here much longer, it’s becoming too dangerous.”

“S-S-Sam...d-d-d-dangerous...?”

Nicholas hesitated, a frown briefly crossing his face. “I don’t believe so, no. They haven’t turned us in, and they’ve been nothing but helpful.”

“H-h-human...” Phillip said quietly, his voice cracking again. “B-b-b-bad...r-r-r-r-reset...m-m-me...y-y-y- _ you…” _

“Sam isn’t going to reset either of us,” Nicholas assured him quickly. 

“C-c-c-can’t...l-l-let...y-you g-g-get...h-h-h-hurt...” Phillip mumbled, his voice becoming more frantic as he held tighter to Nicholas. “C-c-can’t...y-y-y-you—”

“I’m not hurt, Phillip,” Nicholas cut him off softly.

Phillip looked up at him nervously, shaking his head. “C-c-could...h-h-h-hurt...y-y-y-y-you...”

“If they were foolish enough to try, I would stop them.”

Phillip watched him for a moment, looking confused. “S-s-stopped...th-them...b-b-b-bef-f-fore...”

“Correct.”

“W-w-we’re...s-s-s-s-safe...?” he asked, fumbling for Nicholas’ hand again. 

Nicholas nodded, taking Phillip’s shaking hand and holding him tight. “I’ll keep us safe.”

Phillip didn’t reply, hiding his face again and trying to keep his breathing steady. Nicholas watched him for a moment before looking into the lab again, keeping an eye on the humans still puttering about. The director was nowhere in sight, and neither was Sam. He could only hope the director stayed wherever he was, and hope that Sam came to the lab soon, before Phillip had much more trouble. 

“N-N-Nicholas?”

“What is it?”

“L-l-l-l-leave...s-s-soon...?”

“Yes, we’ll leave soon.”

Phillip hesitated, glancing around the room for a moment before staring up at Nicholas again. “C-c-c-can’t...l-l-l-leave...th-th-them...”

“Leave who, Phillip?”

He pointed with a shaky hand at the closest RK800, which happened to be -60, standing where he always had in silence. Phillip stared at him for a moment before looking at Nicholas, who had followed his gaze and was still staring up at the other RK800s, a strange look in his eyes. 

“C-c-c-c-can’t...l-leave...th-th-them h-h-h-here...”

Nicholas looked back down at him sadly. “They aren’t even activated, Phillip...”

“B-b-b-but...I’m g-g-gone...t-t-t-t-take...th-th-them...in-n-nstead...” he said quietly, his voice shaking. “H-h-h-h-hurt...th-them.”

“No, Phillip. You can’t think like that.”

“C-c-can’t...l-l-l-l-leave th-them—”

“Phillip—”

“Th-th-th-they’ll...h-h-hurt...them—m-m-m-my...f-f-fault—”

_ “Phillip,”  _ Nicholas said heavily, and he stopped, staring up at Nicholas nervously. “None of this will ever be your fault, even if they did take one of the others later on. But I’ve read their reports, their testing has no purpose. There would...be no point continuing after your escape.”

“H-h-h-h-hurt...c-c-can’t...” Phillip said, struggling for words but looking at Nicholas with a frantic sort of determination. He wasn’t going to budge on this. “Th-they...h-h-h-hurt...C-C-C-Connor...h-h-hurt...y-y-y-y-you...c-c-can’t...”

“I’m not hurt, Phillip.”

“B-b-before...” he said shakily, holding tighter to Nicholas. “M-m-m-made...y-y-y-y-you...f-f-forg-g-get...”

Nicholas didn’t know how to reply to that, but Phillip didn’t seem to be looking for an answer. He was watching Nicholas nervously, hands fidgeting in his grip. 

“H-h-have t-to...p-p-p-prot-t-tect...th-th-them...c-can’t—c-c-can’t...” he looked away, shutting his eyes for a moment as he tried to steady himself. “N-n-n-no m-m-m-more...s-s-said...n-no...m-m-more...”

“You don’t have to protect them, they’re safe here. We can’t take them all with us, Phillip, we won’t make it out of the Tower if we do. None of them have been activated, and they won’t be unless something happens to Connor. They won’t test anything on them, even after we escape.”

“D-d-d-don’t...know...th-th-that...”

“Yes, I do,” Nicholas said, looking away, avoiding his eyes and looking into the lab.

Phillip watched him for a moment in silence, a nervous look on his face. It almost seemed like he wanted to say something, continue their conversation from before, but he only flinched and looked away, reaching for Nicholas’ hand again. He turned away from the lab doors, trying to keep his thoughts somewhere safe, and trying not to think about the strange way Nicholas had insisted he knew the others wouldn’t be tested on. Phillip wasn’t sure of many things, but he could tell when Nicholas was hiding something from him.

The thought slipped away from him before he could give it much time, however, as Nicholas’ expression shifted. It hardened, like it did when he was trying to sort something out, sharpening into something dangerous. 

“Something is happening,” Nicholas said quietly, tightening his grip on Phillip almost subconsciously. 

Phillip didn’t look, LED flashing faster as he flinched and hid his face in Nicholas’ jacket again. “N-n-n-not...ag-g-gain...n-n-n-n-no m-m-more...”

“I don’t believe they are panicking because of you, Phillip,” Nicholas answered quickly, hushing him but keeping his eyes on the lab. “It’s alright, they’re not coming for you.”

“S-s-said...n-n-n-not ag-g-g-gain...n-n-no...m-m-m-m-more...”

“I’m watching them, it’s alright. They aren’t coming for you, I’ll keep you safe.”

Phillip didn’t answer, shaking his head and holding tighter to Nicholas. 

Inside the lab, a swarm of humans had entered from the rest of the Tower, and they were crowding around the terminals and watching something. Sam had just come in, wandering over and glancing at the terminals expecting to see Connor’s memory feed. But for once the others weren’t watching Connor—they were watching the news, eyes glued to the face of an android, talking emphatically. 

Four deviants had taken control of the Stratford Broadcasting Tower, and were sending some kind of message on all the news channels, the feed glitching and shifting as they fought to keep their control. A bare faced android was speaking, staring down the camera and talking calmly about android rights. The feed glitched again as the humans fought to take back the broadcast, but the android kept speaking, unphased. The technicians were mumbling, trying to figure out what model the android was, but also wondering at what it was saying. It was captivating.

Sam watched the broadcast for a moment, looking at the strange android talking about peace and dignity with an odd look in their eyes. Something about this android’s words seemed to set them off kilter, make them squirm like many of the others were. But they turned away, eyes landing on the storage room doors as they wondered about the broadcast. Deviants asking for rights...this wasn’t going to be good. The higher ups were going to have a fit...this could force their hand. If the higher ups made a move to deactivate -52, things could go south fast.

Sam needed to talk to the RK900, before everything went to shit.

Thankfully, nearly everyone in the lab was distracted by the broadcast, letting Sam slip away from the crowd unnoticed. They hurried over to the storage room doors, sneaking inside as the deviant broadcast fizzled in and out once again. But the bare faced android only kept speaking, asking for recognition of rights for androids. His voice rang through the hush of the lab in a way that no other android’s voice ever had...and for once, the humans were listening. 

The lights came on down the sides of the storage room, and Sam found the RK900 and -52 sitting together on the floor, as they usually were these days. -52 had his face buried in the RK900’s jacket, and Sam could see him shaking from where they stood. A bad day, then. Forcing down a sigh, they came inside quickly, making sure the door locked behind them. It seemed -52 couldn’t have a good day anymore, always shaking and nervous about something or other. Sam tried to stay out of the storage room so they didn’t freak him out, but today would have to be an exception. 

The RK900 was already looking at them as they came in, his LED spinning a rapid yellow. “What’s happening?”

“A bunch of deviants took over Stratford Tower. They’re sending some kind of broadcast across all the channels.”

_ “What?” _

“Some android, he’s talking about rights for deviants,” Sam said, gesturing at the other technicians still crowded around the terminal. “Apparently they took over the Tower—”

“D-d-d-dev-v-viants?” -52 mumbled, glancing over at Sam, for just a moment before hiding his face again and holding tighter to the RK900. His voice shook, static crackling through as he struggled to speak. “C-C-C-Con...nor?”

“He’ll be assigned the case, I’m sure,” Sam said, tension coming into their voice.

“Connor’s not hurt,” the RK900 said softly, pulling -52’s broken hand away from his jacket and holding it carefully. “He’ll only investigate Stratford, he won’t be hurt.”

-52 pulled back enough to look nervously at the RK900 for a moment. “C-C-C-Connor...s-s-safe...?”

The RK900 nodded. “He’s alright.”

“D-d-d-d-dev...v-viate?”

“No, he hasn’t deviated,” Sam said, looking into the lab briefly. “He’s fighting them off, though, they’re trying to lock that program down and pretty much failing. Don’t know how many reports I’ve filed about that stupid—”

They cut off at the look on the RK900’s face—hardened, and sharp, clearly telling them to  _ stop talking. _ -52 was holding tightly to the RK900, one hand bunched up in his jacket, the other holding the RK900’s hand in a crushing grip. They could see him shaking, the frantic rhythm of his LED lighting the little bit of his face that was visible a sickly red. Sam shut their mouth fast, cursing internally for rambling on. 

“Does he need anything while I’m here?” they said instead, lowering their voice and glancing into the lab again. 

The RK900 didn’t answer right away, still coaxing -52 to breathe again. “Thirium. And there’s a biocomponent in his chest that’s damaged, it’s becoming a problem.”

“Do you know which one?”

He frowned, LED spinning yellow. “#9184j.”

They nodded, turning away once more. “I’m on it.”

As the door closed once again, Phillip’s grip finally relaxed, if only a little. He tried to say something, but he was still too panicked, his voice coming out in garbled static as he pulled closer to Nicholas. 

“It’s alright,” Nicholas hushed him, squeezing his hand carefully. “I’ve got you, you’re safe.”

“N-n-n-n-no...m-m-m-more...” he said desperately, breathing hard now that he had managed to start up again. “Y-you s-s-said...n-n-no m-m-m-more...?”

“I know, and I meant it. There won’t be any more testing today.”

“D-d-don’t...w-w-w-want t-to...g-g-g-go...b-b-back...”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Phillip hummed, tightening his grip on Nicholas again, though he wasn’t shaking nearly as bad as he had been before. “C-c-can’t...h-h-hurt...”

“I won’t let them hurt you.”

“C-c-can’t...g-g-g-go b-b-back...n-n-n-not...ag-g-gain...”

“You won’t go back, not to the lab or anywhere else,” Nicholas said heavily, eyes on the lab to confirm it. The humans were still crowded around the terminal, not paying them any mind. “I won’t let them take you again.”

“N-no...t-t-t-tests...w-w-w-we’re...s-s-safe...?”

“We’re okay for now.”

He seemed satisfied by that for a moment, but his voice still shook when he spoke again. “Y-y-you’re...ok-k-kay?”

“I’m okay, they haven’t done anything to me.”

“L-l-l-l-leave...s-s-soon...?”

“Yes, Phillip. As soon as we come up with a plan, we’ll go.”

“G-g-good...” he mumbled, falling quiet and holding tighter to Nicholas as the doors opened again. 

Sam reappeared, glancing behind them at the other technicians as the storage room door locked. But they turned away, walking quickly over to them and handing the RK900 the biocomponent and thirium they had grabbed. 

“They hardly batted an eye,” they said, backing away a bit and looking in the lab. They didn’t want to see any more repairs than they already had. “It shouldn’t surprise me how little everyone notices around here, but it still does.”

“We have to use their idiocy to our advantage,” the RK900 said, quickly replacing the damaged biocomponent and taking -52’s hand again. 

Sam stared at them for a moment, watching -52 fumble for the RK900’s hand. “What’ve you got, then?” they asked, crossing their arms and looking away as -52 hid his face from their view. “I’m assuming you have some kind of plan going.”

“I’m not sure,” the RK900 said quietly, pulling -52 to himself again. “We need the lab to be clear to make it at all, and there are few opportunities for that. But I’m more concerned about what will happen once we’re in the main Tower. We need to avoid being seen, but we can’t afford to take advantage of the rooms to hide in.”

“Why—” 

“M-m-m-me,” -52 said shakily, his voice muffled by the RK900’s jacket. “C-c-can’t...r-r-r-rooms...b-b-b-b-bad...”

“You don’t have to explain, it’s okay,” Sam answered quickly. 

“Sam is right, you don’t have to think about that anymore. We won’t go back there.”

-52 made a small, rather sad sound, shaking his head minutely and holding tighter to the RK900. They all went quiet for a moment, letting him try to calm himself down before bringing up more triggering topics. After a few seconds he had managed to slow the shaking in his hands, and his LED was spinning a little less frantically, but he was quiet, panic still keeping him from offering any word on what they were saying.

“The point is,” the RK900 went on after a moment, running his hand through -52’s hair but keeping his eyes fixed on Sam. “We have to make it out of the Tower  _ fast, _ and we have to do it in one move. I can keep  _ us _ safe, but...”

“You can’t for very long, and we shouldn’t depend on that anyway,” Sam said.

The RK900 nodded. “I would like to minimize the amount of...traumatic experiences we could bring to light,” he said carefully, but -52 didn’t seem to hear him anyway. “There...isn’t much he can handle in this state.”

“Okay, so you need me to get you out of here quickly and quietly, without having to hide and without having to defend all of us from a bunch of assholes with machine guns.”

“Correct.”

“Right...and as soon as possible.”

“Ideally.”

“Shit,” Sam said emphatically, pacing the storage room while keeping an eye on the other technicians. “Okay, okay...I can get you out of the lab easy enough, any night. Everyone’s out of this place by midnight, that won’t be the issue. It’s the guards in the rest of the Tower that are gonna be a problem.”

“There is an ideal exit on the second floor, at the back of the building. Roughly level with where we are currently in the building.”

“Second floor—isn’t that customer relations?” 

“It has the easiest access to the road off the island without having to deal with the guards at the gates,” the RK900 said with a nod. “We’ll be able to skirt around them if we take one of the service exits at the back of the building, and those are only on the lower levels. Unless we wanted to escape from the warehouse, this is our only option.”

“There are the security drones as well, you’ll have to avoid them once you’re outside,” Sam said, meeting the RK900’s eyes. “They’re on a set path, it should be simple. But we need to figure out how to get you to that point first.”

“We need another day where most of the humans are out of the Tower,” the RK900 said heavily. “If there are less humans, there are fewer guards patrolling the building.”

“There’s Christmas, everyone will be out for a few days at that point.”

“That’s too far away,” the RK900 said, shaking his head as -52 mumbled something into his jacket again, voice cracking with static. “He won’t make it to Christmas with the way things have been...we don’t have a month’s time. We need to leave sooner.”

“Shit, okay. Thanksgiving? It’s only a few weeks away.”

The RK900 frowned, holding -52 closer to him. “If that is our only option...then it will have to do. But know that if an opportunity comes before then, I’m going to take it. I won’t stand this for much longer, and...he doesn’t have the time. We need to go as soon as we have the chance.”

“S-s-soon...” -52 mumbled quietly. “L-l-l-leave...?”

“We will,” the RK900 answered him in a half whisper before looking at Sam again. “We’ll leave as soon as we can, no matter what.”

Sam nodded. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

He gave them a dirty look, but they brushed him off, turning away and looking in the lab again. The technicians were still staring at the terminal, and Sam could just make out the face of one of Detroit’s news anchors—the humans had taken control back again, then. They would have to get out of here quickly then, before someone noticed they were somewhere they weren’t supposed to be.

“I should go,” they said, turning back to the RK900. “I’ll...let you know if I hear anything.”

The RK900 nodded, his attention still focused on -52, who was still shaking and holding tightly to him. Sam turned away, letting the storage room doors swing shut behind them, mind reeling with all the things that had to go right for them to escape. As they wandered over to the rest of the technicians, blending in with the group still watching the news on the deviants’ broadcast, all of their attention was focused on finding a solution, finding a way to get them out of here. Before it was too late. 

“They’re gone, Phillip, it’s alright,” Nicholas said, pulling his hands away from his jacket again as the storage room door locked. “It’s only me, no one else.”

“G-g-gone...?”

“Sam is gone.”

Phillip nodded a little, holding tightly to his hands as he tried to steady himself out. “S-s-sorry...”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Nicholas replied quietly, watching him. “It isn’t your fault.”

“Ev-v-very...th-thing’s...c-c-conf-f-fusing...h-h-h-hard to...t-t-tell...w-w-w-what’s...” he trailed off, staring at their linked hands before meeting Nicholas’ gaze again. “Th-this...r-r-r-real...?”

Nicholas nodded sadly, though he tried to hide the expression. He never could hide very much from Phillip, though. “This is real,” he said carefully. “We’re safe.”

“N-n-no...m-m-m-more...”

“No more.”

“S-s-s-stay...?” he mumbled, looking up at Nicholas again as if he would fade away.

Nicholas watched him for a moment before pulling him closer, wrapping his hands around him and letting him bury his face in his jacket once again. “Always, Phillip.”


	14. Won't See What Might Have Been

Over the course of the next several days, Cyberlife’s situation went from bad to worse. 

Not only had four deviants successfully sent a message of apparent sentience to the world, but they had done it in a way that demanded they be heard. No humans had been harmed in their infiltration of Stratford Tower—not so much as a scratch. Their message had been one of peace and cooperation, even as swat teams swarmed the Tower and shot one of their own. And the following day, the same group of deviants had staged a massive peaceful protest, had marked Capitol Park with their insignia and demanded rights for androids. 

It wasn’t these demands that were causing Cyberlife so much trouble. No, they had dealt with deviancy in the past, given on a much smaller scale. They had experience with this sort of thing, and could certainly have staged a mass recall if they needed to. Rumors were already circulating about collection camps, recycling the deviants for parts and releasing a new line. They could have the situation largely dealt with in a matter of days, if they really wanted to. 

But people were listening to the deviants. 

There were of course those who were against deviants gaining rights, those who still believed that androids were only machines executing programs and nothing more. There were plenty of people who were uncomfortable with the rapidly spreading issue of deviancy. But when they heard messages of peace, when they learned that not a single human had been harmed at Stratford Tower, it was harder to argue that these deviants were dangerous. People were beginning to see their side, and that was immensely powerful. They didn’t want to give up their androids, didn’t want to sentence them to apparent death. 

The higher ups were very nearly panicking, scrambling for answers and trying to convince themselves they had everything under control. But those on the ground? They knew a little better what was happening, and where this was likely to go.

So it came as little surprise to some of the technicians when they realized Connor had deviated. He had been pulling away from their control so strongly over the past week that many of them had begun placing bets on when it would happen. After Stratford, there were whole hours of time lost to them—no reports, no ability to watch his memory feed—he wasn’t uploading everything. All they got at the end of the day was his basic report, successes and failures listed off rapid fire with no explanation. There were swaths of time Connor left unattended, and less and less time they could see in his memories. 

Connor had shut them out.

When they realized Connor had finally deviated, there were several subdued cheers throughout the lab from those who had won their bets. After a few moments, however, everything soured. Decisions needed to be made now—the higher ups needed to be told, the program needed to be checked, potentially activated. The dance had begun, and now all they had to do was wait for the proper moment to take advantage. 

The higher ups didn’t seem to understand this, however. They believed Connor was a lost cause, a hazard that needed to be removed immediately, and quietly. Their faith in the Amanda program was minimal, at least at the stage it was currently required to be. They didn’t seem to believe that it could maintain its control on Connor for long enough to remove him (and ideally the deviant leader) from the situation. 

So they told the technicians to activate another RK800.

Nicholas watched the humans scrambling in the lab from his place at the opposite end of the storage room. Phillip wasn’t awake, leaned back against the wall, his LED spinning a slow, jittering red. Thankfully they hadn’t tested anything else on him in the past two days, but he was still struggling to keep himself level. He’d fallen quiet several hours ago, had slipped down into something like peaceful sleep just a few minutes ago. Nicholas had retreated to his side of the room for safety’s sake, but he was ready to move if something were to happen. 

But Phillip had hardly moved at all since he’d drifted off, for once resting somewhat peacefully, and so Nicholas’ attention shifted to the lab and the crowds of technicians scrambling about. The past two days had brought far more humans into the lab, but this seemed to be different. Something was happening, something bad. He could see the panic in their expressions, the haste with which they were moving, trying to sort something out. Nicholas’ eyes flitted to the other RK800s in the room. Had something happened to Connor? 

It was late at night, there shouldn’t have been any reason for these technicians to still be here. Something had to have happened to Connor, something big. Had he been destroyed?

The doors to the storage room opened, and a technician appeared—not one that Nicholas recognized, one of those constantly watching Connor on those terminals. They looked around the room, glancing strangely at Phillip for a moment before turning away again.

“Hey, which one?” they called back into the lab, one hand holding the storage room door open. “Not -52, right?”

“Not -52, he belongs to testing. He’s all fucked up anyway, wouldn’t last ten seconds out there,” another voice said. “Higher ups said -60. They don’t want anything close to -51, I guess...”

“Superstitious geezers,” the technician grumbled, letting the door slide shut as they walked in with a huff. “There’s no difference, they’re all the same.”

They stared around the room for another moment before wandering over to -60 and starting the activation process. Rather than staying, however, they left the room again, talking to a technician just outside and holding the door open as they had before. It took a few minutes for an android to activate for the first time, and this technician didn’t seem to want to wait, only glancing back occasionally as -60’s system slowly came online.

Nicholas stared at them for a moment, trying to understand what was happening. Connor couldn’t be dead, wouldn’t they have taken the next available model if that were the case? -53 would be the one activated, then, if not Phillip. But they had gone for the  _ last  _ available model instead... _ don’t want anything close to -51... _ Connor had done something, something they didn’t want the next RK800 they sent out to do. 

Connor must have deviated. 

And they were going to send -60 out, to do what? Deactivate Connor? Had the program worked? Had it failed? Nicholas needed information, but he also needed to stop them from putting the Amanda program on -60. They couldn’t trap another of them, not again. He wouldn’t be able to give him the same emergency exit he had given Connor, there wouldn’t be time. But what could he do? They were already activating him, he had less than a minute to do  _ something, _ but he had no idea what. 

Nicholas glanced over at Phillip again. He would have done something...anything, just to try. He’d nearly gotten himself shut down just for trying to warn Connor, but Nicholas knew he would do the same for -60 without question. Phillip wanted to get them all out of here when they escaped, he wouldn’t have cared about the risks. He would have done anything, without caring what happened to him because of it.

But Nicholas had to care. He had to keep Phillip safe, he couldn’t afford to be found out. If he were caught, it wouldn’t be the same as catching Phillip trying to escape. The humans didn’t know Nicholas had deviated. Most of them didn’t know he had ever been activated, and none of them knew the scope to which he had abandoned his intended purpose. He needed to keep them in the dark, had to ensure the humans saw nothing, or he would be reset again, deactivated even. Then Phillip would be alone...Phillip couldn’t be alone.

Still, he had to do  _ something.  _

The technician was still talking to someone else in the lab, something about Connor’s last known location. Sparing them one last glance, Nicholas pulled himself as far to his left as he could, hand reaching for -60’s arm. The human turned around briefly and he froze, but they turned away again, still asking questions. Nicholas shook his head minutely, inching to his left again and finally managing to grab -60’s arm. The artificial skin pulled away from his hand instantly, and -60 soon followed. The connection was quick, messy, but it hardly mattered to Nicholas. He only had to get one simple thing across. 

_ “Don’t trust them.” _

-60’s eyes shot open at the strange message, and he looked over at Nicholas quizzically, his dark eyes skeptical. They stared hard at each other in silence, LEDs spinning yellow for several seconds. 

_ “Don’t trust them,” _ Nicholas said again, more adamantly. 

For a moment it seemed like -60 wanted to say something, his mouth half open in a question, but he didn’t get the chance. The storage room door opened again, and Nicholas was back in his place instantly, his eyes shut and LED forced back to blue. 

-60, on the other hand, stared over at the technician hurrying toward him, LED still spinning yellow.

“Fucking finally, god, come on,” they grumbled, grabbing him roughly by the arm and pulling him away from his place. “Took you long enough.”

_ Don’t trust them. _

-60 followed them, glancing back at the RK900 before his eyes swept the whole room, taking in the shapes of the other RK800s. A part of him wondered why he was being activated, and what the RK900 had meant by his strange message.  _ Don’t trust them.  _ Don’t trust who? The humans? He had to have meant the humans, there was no one else here. But why would he tell him not to trust the humans? What was happening? If didn’t make any sense. What did it mean? -60 didn’t know, but the message had worked its way into his mind and it wasn’t likely to leave any time soon. 

_ Don’t trust them. _

But something else briefly caught his attention, a flicker of movement at the corner of his vision, and he hesitated. He turned, attention fixed hard on the android opposite him now, who was staring back at him with something close to terror in his cloudy eyes. There shouldn’t have been a single thing to distinguish this RK800 from the rest, besides perhaps the fact that he was staring at -60 with a frantic desperation. Why was this RK800 staring at him like that? His LED was spinning dangerously red, and his stress levels were in the upper nineties. -60 could just make out the faded -52 on his jacket as he pushed himself up to his full height shakily. 

-52 jerked forward, but there were restraints on his wrists, and they stopped him before he could stumble toward -60. He pulled against them somewhat desperately, glancing in the direction of the RK900 before his eyes landed on -60 again, LED skipping fast between red and yellow, now. -60 watched him carefully, wondering at this strange android. 

Phillip couldn’t remember waking up. He remembered talking to Nicholas earlier in the day, when they had the chance to try to forget for a while. But it was hard to connect moments, especially when he had slipped off at some point, drifting downward until he wasn’t quite sure where he was...or how long it had been. All he knew was he came to and the door to the storage room was open, and another RK800 was activated. 

-60 was being pulled away from his place by some technician, one Phillip had never seen before. His LED was yellow—strange for an android just activated—but Phillip hardly noticed. All of his fragmented attention was focused on figuring out what was happening. What were they doing? Why were the humans taking another of them? They would take him away, put that...that program on him, make him...No, no this couldn’t happen, not again—he had to do something. 

Phillip pulled against the restraints, but he wasn’t strong enough to break them anymore. He could hardly have walked even if he could break the restraints, not that he cared. But his straining seemed to have caught -60’s attention, his eyes snapping to Phillip’s quickly. Something in -60’s expression shifted, his LED briefly flitting to yellow again. Phillip pulled on the restraints, trying to reach him. He just had to...he didn’t know, but he had to stop them, he had to stop this. 

Somehow his eyes landed on Nicholas, who was watching him as well, but quite differently from how -60 had stared. -60 looked at Phillip with suspicion, and something like worry after a moment. Nicholas looked at Phillip heavily, guilt clouding his eyes, thousands of other emotions somehow displayed, however briefly, in his usually hardened eyes. If he had more clarity, Phillip might have marveled at that, the thousands of different ways Nicholas looked at him, but now he was too desperate, too controlled by panic to give much thought to it. 

He noticed the fear there, in Nicholas’ gaze, fear that Phillip would do as he had before and get himself hurt. Phillip pulled weakly on the restraints again, trying to reach him, trying to say something, but his voice fell apart into static. Nicholas’ LED flashed red and he shook his head quickly at him, telling him not to do anything, to stay put. It wasn’t safe, they would hurt him again, he knew this. But Phillip couldn’t just stand here, he couldn’t watch them take another of them away, why were they taking him? Why did they even need -60? 

Where was Connor?

Had he...

No, no that couldn’t...he couldn’t be...

Desperate, Phillip turned away, pulling on the restraints again with all of his worn out strength and trying to say something. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was trying to say, but -60 was still watching him as the technician spoke to someone else in the lab. Their eyes met again, and -60’s stare hardened, like he was trying to understand something, analyzing and not quite coming up with an answer. His LED flashed yellow once more and his eyes widened minutely—it almost seemed like he suppressed a flinch. He looked around the room for a moment before his eyes landed on Phillip again, his expression shifting once more. He almost looked...concerned.

But the technician dragged him away, and there was nothing either of them could have done. 

Phillip shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts and come up with some kind of solution. But there was nothing, there was nothing he could do. They were taking him away, they were going to put that program on him, and...he would be  _ trapped there,  _ Phillip had to help him, he had to—

The room glitched, hard, falling apart at the seams for a moment, or so it seemed anyway. It flickered, like it was coming through a bad connection, shifting for a moment to another version of itself from months ago. When Connor was being taken away, and Phillip couldn’t reach him in time. Breaking the glass trying to reach him, looking at his hand for long enough to realize what he had done and then being dragged away. Connor turning away. The humans attacking him. Nearly shutting down. 

The image shattered, breaking apart and being replaced by another version of this room, more recent but still weeks ago. When the director of engineering had come back, adding code and resetting Nicholas. And again, Phillip couldn’t stop them in time. Waking Nicholas up and being attacked, slipping off and knowing everything was lost. Still trying to make him remember. Sam trying to bring him back from the brink and failing. That horrible place...darkness creeping in and burying him before he even knew what was happening...

But this image broke too, and suddenly Phillip was alone, terribly terribly alone. He was...in the storage room? But there was no one else here, no other RK800s, no Nicholas, not even any humans in the lab. It was just him, standing in the center and looking around with panic. The lab was dark, the storage room seemingly abandoned, and Phillip was standing alone in the middle of it, shaking.

This couldn’t be right, they...they were always here. He didn’t...where were the others? No, no this was wrong. They couldn’t all be gone, they...wake up, he had to wake up. This couldn’t be real, something was wrong, something was  _ wrong.  _ Nicholas, he had to find Nicholas. Where...where was he? He was always there, he’d never been without Nicholas in the storage room, not ever, except when he was in the lab. But the lab was empty, Nicholas wasn’t there. Where...something was wrong. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t real, this was a nightmare, it had to be,  _ it had to be. _

“Nicholas?” he called, then froze, wondering at how clear his voice sounded. “Nicholas! Where...”

Where was he? Where was everyone? This was wrong, this couldn’t be right. Everything about this was wrong...Nicholas was gone, where...where was Nicholas? No—no, this wasn’t real.  _ This wasn’t real. _

“What’s happening?” he whispered, not really meaning to. “Nicholas!”

Phillip looked around again, eyes searching for something, anything that would tell him what was happening. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten here, or how he was suddenly so fixed. He was hardly damaged at all—he was standing of his own accord, his voice wasn’t falling apart after every syllable, he could see clearly—this wasn’t right. 

“No, this isn’t real—this—” he looked into the lab, but it was dim, there was no one there. There was no one  _ anywhere.  _ “This can’t be real, this can’t be...”

Sure enough, the illusion fell apart, but Phillip knew he was slipping off. He tried to stop it, he tried to bring himself back, grab a hold of something, but there was nothing there. Maybe he really was alone. No, no, Nicholas had said he would stay, he said he would...they were supposed to leave together, soon he said. Where did he go? What was happening? Darkness was closing in too fast, he couldn’t stop it, and he knew where this lead but there was nowhere else to go, there was only one way this could end and he knew it. 

Something seemed to snap, and then everything was cold, and dark, and everything  _ hurt. _ The void swallowed him so fast he had no hope of escaping it, the damage hitting him in waves as he fell farther and farther away. He slumped over, unable to hold himself up anymore, not with how damaged everything was here. Cold, too cold, it was pulling at him, sapping the little strength he might have carried here. He hit the ground hard, flinching and hiding his face, trying to escape everything. There was no point looking around this place, he knew there was nothing here. Nothing but darkness and cold, and some unseen wind that was pulling at his jacket, weaving its way through the thin material and making him shiver. 

How was he here again? This wasn’t right, the humans took the program off, this wasn’t supposed to happen anymore. He wasn’t supposed to be here. This place didn’t...it didn’t exist, did it? No, no it couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be real. He wasn’t supposed to hurt anymore...this wasn’t right.

Nicholas, he needed Nicholas. 

He had to...find him, he had to find him. But he couldn’t move. He tried to stand, tried to sit up even from where he found himself—on the nonexistent ground curled up into a tight ball—but he couldn’t. 

He managed to bring himself up on his hand for a moment, looking around the blurry void as much as he could. He could feel the thirium running down his face from his broken eye. If this place were real, the thirium would have frozen by now, cracked through the thin layer of synthetic skin and left a permanent bluish mark on his cheek. Something like the shade his eye certainly had reverted to by now, that dark, almost black color that came when a biocomponent became too damaged to display properly. If he could have seen it, it would have looked gruesome. But he couldn’t see much of anything, right now. 

He looked down at his hand on the ground, the only one that still functioned, somewhat. The artificial skin had pulled away up to his elbow, showing the white and gray plating that made up his arm and hand. Most of it was stained blue, though, some of it still fresh. There were biocomponents exposed, leaking thirium over the part of his sleeve that was falling back down over his arm. This arm shouldn’t even be functioning now. 

The world blurred again, and he slumped, hand slipping briefly as everything fell to pieces. For a moment, he thought he might fall, lose himself in whatever was left of his mind at this point. But the crumbling didn’t happen all at once, it never really did. No, he was still here. The cold came back stronger, his vision was blurrier, the pain more present, but besides that, it was the same. 

His strength had failed and he fell, head half resting on his functioning arm but mostly on whatever broken simulated ground this was. There was thirium on the ground...he couldn’t remember how he had gotten here. Was this...no, no this wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. Help, he needed...he needed help. 

_ Get up,  _ he needed to move, this wasn’t safe, surely this wasn’t safe. They were going to...they were...he had to go, he had to  _ go.  _ But everything hurt, every damaged biocomponent was flooding him with errors and every frayed nerve was working overtime. He could hardly make a fist with his hand at this point, much less find a way out of here.

He had been here before...how had he gotten out last time? Someone...Nicholas, Nicholas had...he needed Nicholas. But where was he? This place...this wasn’t real, was it? It couldn’t be real, it couldn’t. What if...what if he was trapped here?

No, no, Nicholas had found him here before. He...he said he would find him if he went too far...he said they would be safe. He just had to find Nicholas and then...then things would make sense. Right? Then...then they couldn’t hurt him anymore...he needed to...find Nicholas. Yes, then...then things would be alright. 

He looked again at his only functioning arm, the other hanging useless at his side, the panels ripped apart and bloodied. He couldn’t move it no matter how he tried. Someone had done this to him...someone had broken him...an image of a sneering human, the glint of a knife in the light of his LED...no,  _ no,  _ don’t think about that. Bad, bad—focus, just—with effort he turned his head to look again at his functioning hand, ignoring the thirium dripping from his fingers. After an agonizingly long period of time, he managed to lay his hand flat and push himself up again. 

Nicholas. He just had to find Nicholas. Then...things would...make sense, right? They would be okay, then...just find Nicholas. 

His vision was glitching, half faded and half covered in warnings, and it was so dark here. Still, he looked around the broken garden, searching for something, anything that would tell him Nicholas was here. Something to tell him that this wasn’t real, that they would be okay soon. 

He couldn’t find anything. 

There was no one here. 

He fell again after a few seconds, shivering and curling in on himself as he struggled to breathe. Everything hurt too much, there was too much damage, too many memories tormenting him, and he could never move much here. It was too cold, too dark, too...everything. Cold, cold cold—too cold. This place was overwhelming, in its nothingness, and he couldn’t ever pull himself out of here, certainly not anymore. The garden seemed to lose its center again, the illusion fell away briefly, but all he could do this time was wince and curl tighter into himself. He couldn’t block the images anymore, and they washed over him mercilessly. 

The human with the knife. 

The director taking biocomponents apart and putting them back, waiting to see what would happen. 

The hundreds of times he had almost shut down in the lab.

Nicholas being reset. 

Connor turning away from the storage room, walking away in the lab. 

-60 being pulled away by the technician. 

He needed help, he needed Nicholas, where was he? Too much, this was too much, everything hurt, and this wasn’t right, he wasn’t supposed to be here. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be real. 

Nicholas would come, wouldn’t he?

He said they were safe. 

That they would leave this place. 

That he wouldn’t have to come back here anymore. 

But he was here again.

And no one else was here. 

Something was wrong. 

Something was  _ wrong.  _

But then the ground seemed to shift, losing its balance and warping around him, and he  _ knew  _ someone was here, someone had found him, broken into this place somewhere. Help, he needed help...too hurt, too much, he was going to die here, alone...Nicholas...no, no, he had failed again, he’d let them take Connor, he’d let them reset Nicholas, he’d let them take -60 away. He failed he failed he failed—

There was a hand on his arm, and he flinched away, curling tighter into himself while trying to see who it was. He caught the rough shape of someone, a red LED, but one of his eyes was damaged and he was barely functioning. Whoever they were, they pulled back, saying something softly, but he couldn’t hear them, he couldn’t understand what they were saying. After a second’s pause, they reached toward him again, and he tried to focus on them more, tried to understand. Everything was so muddled, so confused...

“Phillip.”

Nicholas? But he...no, this...but Nicholas was here, it was...was it okay now? What had happened? He couldn’t remember, he couldn’t...how long had he...

“N-N-N-N-Nic...” he mumbled, his voice breaking apart before he could even say his name. 

His vision glitched again and he winced, trying to focus, trying to clear away all the fog. Nicholas said something, but he couldn’t understand him, his hearing was fading in and out at seemingly random intervals, just like his vision. 

“H-h-h-h-h-help...” he whimpered, fingers twitching as he tried to reach for him. “H-h-h-help...”

Nicholas hushed him, reaching for him as well. 

Their hands finally connected, and he felt Nicholas tighten his grip on him before everything fell apart again, blinding light filling the void painfully. He tried to shut his eyes but couldn’t, or perhaps it didn’t matter, since this wasn’t real anyway. It was harder to come back now, it took longer, and things never seemed to make as much sense as they used to. But he could feel Nicholas’ hand in his still, almost pulling him back, leading him along. Gently, but persistent, not letting him slip back again.

At some point, the world came back, slowly fading in. He could hear Nicholas talking quietly to him, but he couldn’t focus on the words yet. Still, his voice was helping, coaxing Phillip slowly back to reality. A little later, his vision cleared some, enough to make out Nicholas, watching him sadly. They stared at each other for a few seconds as Phillip tried to maintain his hold on reality.

“You’re back,” Nicholas said firmly, pulling Phillip to him and holding him close. “It’s alright, I’m here.”

Phillip sank into him, grabbing onto him with shaking hands. He tried to ignore the consistent glitching of his vision, focusing on Nicholas’ voice instead, on the feeling of his hands holding him up. 

“I’ve got you, you’re alright,” he was saying quietly, his voice as steady as it always was. “It’s okay, Phillip, I won’t let you slip away.”

He nodded a little, but didn’t try to talk—he couldn’t talk, he couldn’t. Not when everything was still so confused, so temporary. He buried his face in Nicholas’ shoulder, holding tighter to his hands. 

Several minutes passed in a timid quiet as Nicholas brought him carefully back from the edge. Neither of them dared to say what they both knew, the reason that all of this had happened. But the reason was there, it was as obvious as it could have been, though they both turned away from it and refused to see it. Phillip hid his face, and Nicholas refused to look. But they both knew what had changed in this room. 

They knew the empty space at the opposite end, and its partner to Phillip’s right. Two of them gone. Lost. Potentially forever. Damned. Anything could have happened to them by now. Connor could be dead. -60 could be trapped. But they couldn’t afford to face the possibilities now. 

Nicholas glanced into the lab for a moment, watching the humans crowded around -60 at the main terminal. But he looked away, holding Phillip closer to him and focusing on what they still had instead. He couldn’t afford to give up, to wallow in all the losses—not when they were so close. They had to escape this place, then they had a chance of saving the others. Finding Connor, if he was still alive. Getting to -60 before the program could trigger. 

They would be out, that would be all that mattered to Nicholas. Phillip would be safe. He wouldn’t have to give false promises anymore. He could  _ guarantee _ Phillip’s safety, perhaps find the others if they could, get them as far from Cyberlife as he could manage. 

“N-N-N-Nicholas...N-N-Nic...?” Phillip mumbled, holding tighter to him with a flinch. 

“I know, I know. I’ve got you,” Nicholas answered him, pulling him carefully away from his place. “It’s over, it’s alright.”

“Ov-v-ver...?”

“It’s over.”

“N-n-n-n-n-no...m-m-m-more...n-n-no...?”

“No more.”

Phillip tried to say something, but his voice fell apart as his legs gave out beneath him. Nicholas caught him before he could fall, hushing him as he panicked at the sudden loss of strength. The shaking got worse as he tried to orient himself, grabbing onto Nicholas desperately and trying to hold himself up again, get away from whatever he thought was chasing him.

“No, no, it’s alright,” Nicholas said softly, letting him slump against him and holding him up. “I’ve got you, it’s alright, Phillip.”

“N-N-N-Nicholas...?”

“Yes, it’s me. You’re safe.”

“W-w-what...w-w-w-why...” he held tighter to him, looking around the room in a daze. “N-N-Nic...”

“It’s okay, Phillip,” he said quietly, keeping his voice surprisingly steady. “We’re alright, we’re safe for now.”

“S-s-s-s-safe...?”

“Yes.”

“W-w-what...” Phillip mumbled, trying to focus on him. “H-h-h-h-hap-p-pened...?”

He lost his footing again, but Nicholas was already supporting most of his weight, so they hardly noticed beyond tightening their grip on each other slightly. Nicholas glanced into the lab for a moment, but looked away quickly. -60 was being connected to the terminal at the center of the room, but there was nothing they could do to reach him now. Phillip was still trembling, barely back from the edge. He had to get him safe before he could even think of helping the others. 

“W-w-w-what...N-N-Nicholas...?”

“I’m here.”

“C-c-c-c-c-can’t...r-r-r-rem...m-m-member...”

Nicholas hesitated, looking to the empty space where Connor used to stand. “Connor deviated. I don’t know what happened to him, but the humans activated -60...”

Phillip froze, lifting his head briefly to look where -60 usually stood. He stared for a moment, his grip slowly tightening on Nicholas as his LED darkened, picking up pace as it fell back to red. 

“N-n-n-no—n-no...w-w-w-w-why...?” he asked, shaking as he tried to keep his hold on Nicholas. “W-w-why?”

“I don’t know, Phillip,” Nicholas said quietly, hating the sound of it. “I don’t know why they took him.”

“F-f-f-f-failed...” Phillip whispered, his voice half static as he looked up at Nicholas, eyes dark and foggy. “G-g-g-g-g-gone...l-l-lost...c-c-c-c-can’t...k-k-keep...s-s-s-s-safe.”

“No, Phillip,” Nicholas said immediately, leading him slowly down to their normal resting place. “You didn’t fail. It isn’t your fault the humans took them. We...we still have time, they aren’t gone forever.”

“S-s-s-s-save...th-th-them...”

“They aren’t gone forever.”

“H-h-h-h-hurt...m-m-m-m-me...y-y-you...C-C-C-Connor...n-n-n-n-now...”

“I know,” Nicholas said heavily as he lowered them carefully to the ground. “I’m sorry, I...I tried to warn him, but there wasn’t enough time to...”

“W-w-w-w-warn...? W-w-what...”

“I didn’t have time to give him the same option I gave to Connor,” Nicholas explained quietly, running his hands through Phillip’s hair out of habit. It was one of the few things that consistently calmed them both, an action so simple neither of them had to focus on it. “All I could do was...try to tell him that they couldn’t be trusted. Hopefully he’ll be safe...”

“S-s-s-safe..” Phillip said, confusion clearing for a moment, but replaced by a frantic sort of desperation. “H-h-h-h-h-have t-t-to...k-k-k-k-keep...th-th-them...s-s-s-s-safe...”

“I know, Phillip.”

“H-h-h-have...t-t-to...N-N-N-Nicholas...”

He hushed him softly, holding him close. “It’s alright, they’re not hurt. They’re okay, they just aren’t here, that’s all.”

“W-w-w-why...” he froze, his grip tightening before he flinched, hands shaking as he tried to bring himself back. “N-n-no...n-n-n-no!”

“Phillip,  _ Phillip,  _ look at me,” Nicholas said quickly, hands resting carefully on his face. “Right here, focus.”

His eyes were dazed as they found him, panic fracturing his expression. “N-N-Nicholas!”

“You’re safe, it’s alright.”

“Th-th-they...h-h-h-h-hurt...”

Nicholas shook his head sadly. “It’s not real. It’s only a memory.”

“N-n-n-n-not...r-r-r-r-real..?”

“It isn’t real.”

“N-n-n-not...”

“This is real, Phillip, this is happening now,” Nicholas said, pulling Phillip closer as he struggled to keep his grip on him. “I’m not going to let you fall again, you’re safe now. No one’s coming for you.”

“W-w-want t-t-t-t-to...l-l-l-leave...” Phillip gasped, holding onto his jacket and trying to calm himself down. “S-s-s-stop...h-h-h-h-h-hurting...ev-v-very...one...”

“It will stop, we’ll leave this place. We just...we only have to wait for the proper moment, that’s all. But we  _ will _ leave. We’ll be safe soon.”

“S-s-s-safe...”

“Yes.”

“F-f-f-f-find...C-C-Connor...?” he mumbled, looking up at Nicholas again with worry. “F-f-f-find...b-b-both...th-th-th-th-them...?”

Nicholas hesitated, eyes landing in the lab again as -60 stalked away, his gait rather strange. Something was amiss there. But he was gone before Nicholas could really determine just what made the young android so odd. Shaking his head, he tried to come up with a good answer to Phillip’s loaded request. 

“If we can,” he said a few seconds later, resting his chin on the top of Phillip’s head for a moment. “If it’s safe...we’ll find them. The sooner  _ we _ are safe, Phillip, the sooner we can try to save them.”

“H-h-h-h-have t-t-to...h-h-h-h-help...th-th-them...”

“I know,” Nicholas said quietly, unsure what else to reply. “I know...”

Phillip fell quiet once again, finding enough strength to bury his face in Nicholas’ jacket and reach for him. Nicholas took his hand, interlacing their fingers quickly and running his other hand through his hair again. 

“We’ll help them, Phillip,” he said, eyes still scanning the lab, darkness coming over his expression. “We’ll fix this.”

“N-n-n-n-not...” Phillip whispered, his voice shaking, falling into static as he tried to keep himself calm. “D-d-d-don’t...l-l-l-l-l-leave m-m-me...”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“S-s-s-stay...?”

“Of course.”

“S-s-safe...?”

“I’ll keep you safe,” Nicholas said heavily, eyes hardening. His LED was spinning a surprisingly calm yellow as he scanned the faces of the technicians who had activated -60, memorizing their faces, their names. “I’ll make this right.”


	15. What I've Felt, What I've Known...

The director of testing watched from a corner of the room as RK800 -60 stalked away, his steps echoing harshly through the fast emptying lab. Technicians were still scrambling around, several of them running the terminal responsible for controlling -60. Apparently they weren’t taking any chances with him. The director suppressed a smirk at that. So concerned about how the program could work, and yet they were willing to use it in its most extreme form. They would take every control from an android they felt they had a grip on, but they wouldn’t try to take _back_ control from the android they lost.

He watched the technicians run around for another minute or so before he lost interest, eyes slowly falling back to the biocomponent on his desk. He had been messing with it before everything had gone to shit, but he’d lost interest quickly once the chaos had kicked up around him. His thoughts wandered back to what they always did—RK800s, tests, and most recently, -51.

It came as no surprise to the director when he was told that -51 had deviated. With the way things were going in the city, with deviants running rampant and no one to stop them, it was a wonder they had kept -51 locked down as long as they did. He had seen some of its memories as well...it was a wonder they didn’t realize what was happening before it did. That girl was dangerous, and they hadn’t done a thing about her. They let -51 follow her around like a lost puppy, they threatened to get rid of her if the android didn’t stay compliant, and then they were surprised when it deviated to protect her. Idiots.

And now they had done what? Activated another RK800, uploaded -51’s memories to it and sent it out. Locked it down with their precious program so it could hardly move a finger without their permission, and told it to get rid of -51, whatever it took. The director could have told them how stupid they were, how ridiculous it was to give another machine the memories that had destroyed the other, how foolish it was to depend entirely on their ability to control -60 from the lab. But they would never listen to him. They never had in the past, and they weren’t likely to start now.

Shaking his head, the director turned his attention back to the terminal in front of him, reading the email he had just been sent again. It was the same as the last several he had received, all demanding that he deactivate -52 immediately. At least, he thought it was the same, until he read further.

_Dir. Davis,_

_This email is intended to inform you of the current severity of the RK800 situation. With the deviation of unit -51, and the activation of unit -60,_ **_the company has come to the decision to deactivate all remaining RK800 units._ ** _Risks must be minimized in the face of the increasing pressure regarding the deviancy situation._

 _In order to decrease the chance of further issues,_ **_all production, testing, and activation of other RK800 units has been suspended._ ** _No other units are to be activated, even in the event of the deactivation of units -51 and -60. Any units besides RK800 -60 are to be deactivated, and upon unit -60’s success, unit -60 is to be destroyed._

 _Those units active currently,_ **_including those within Cyberlife Tower_ ** _, are not excepted from this decision. Deactivation is to be carried out immediately and permanently, regardless of future testing schedules or production plans. The risk of deviancy is too great, and for such an issue to plague the most advanced line of androids in our possession is too dangerous._

 **_We expect unit -52 to be deactivated within the next two hours._ ** _If the unit is not destroyed by this point in time, a deactivation team will he sent, and you will he forcibly removed from the testing lab. Reentry into the lab, and the entirety of Cyberlife Tower, will not be allowed._

_We thank you for your cooperation._

_Cyberlife Co._

The director stared at the email, read it over, then read it again, face reddening steadily with every pass of the text. His hand tightened into a fist, nearly crushing the pencil he was holding. No one else in the lab had moved, but he knew that the other directors had likely been sent a similar email. He wasn’t going to be able to get out of this. His time was up.

Or...nearly.

“You!” he barked at a technician, eyes narrowing when he realized which it was. “Stan or whatever—”

“It’s Sam.”

“Pam, then—”

_“Sam.”_

“I don’t give a shit what your name is!” he grumbled, waving his hands in frustration and finally discarding the pencil he had nearly crushed. “Get the others and start scrapping the RK800s.”

_“What?”_

“Corporate wants ‘em gone, now get a move on. Leave the 900, and leave -52. I’ve still got something to do before we chop it.”

He turned away before he could catch the look of utter panic on Sam’s face, even as they worked their hardest to mask it. They turned away quickly, staring at the storage room with something like horror quickly taking over their expression. Clenching their hands into fists, they steeled themself before walking to the storage room as steadily as they could. They glanced back briefly to make sure no one was following them before practically putting their hand down on the panel and hurrying inside.

The RK900 looked up from his place on the ground as they hurried inside, eyes dark with something close to anger. -52 was shaking in his grasp, face hidden from view as he mumbled something incoherently. The RK900 hushed him, softening for a moment before he looked at Sam once again, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“What is it?” he asked quickly, his voice hard. “He’s not doing well, you shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have—they’re—” Sam cut off, unsure how to say exactly what was going to happen, and panicking slightly. “I need to talk to you.”

“Talk, then.”

“Not—” they featured vaguely at -52, who was clinging tightly to the RK900, his face still hidden in his jacket. “This is bad. I don’t know if...”

The RK900 stared at them strangely for a moment before turning his attention to -52 again. He said something quietly to him, his voice barely above a whisper. -52 tightened his grip on him slightly, but he nodded a little to whatever he had said. With a grim expression, the RK900 reached for his LED, the artificial skin on his hand pulling away. -52’s LED blinked yellow a few times before falling back to red. The RK900 took one of his hands in his own, squeezing it reassuringly with a darkened look in his eyes.

“What did you do?” Sam asked, watching them nervously.

“Disabled his audio processors,” the RK900 answered heavily, sounding extremely displeased. “He can’t hear us. Now what is it? I don’t want to leave him like this for long, he’ll panic.”

“They’re going to deactivate him—today.”

Silence fell. The RK900 stared at Sam, all the fire gone from his expression, replaced by something between shock and fear. His LED was spinning fast, dark red giving his expression more intimidation than it needed. But he only stared at Sam, frozen as he tried to process what they had said.

“How...how much time do I have?” he asked after a pause, his voice hollow.

“I don’t know,” Sam said, shaking their head as they began to pace the room nervously. “He just—he just told me to start taking the rest out for scrap. I’m supposed to leave you and him, he wants to...”

“What?” the RK900 asked darkly, tracking their movement across the room even as he held tighter to -52. “He wants to what?”

“He said he’s got something else he wants to do before they deactivate -52. He didn’t say anything about you, and I don’t know what he meant by—”

“We have to leave,” the RK900 cut them off, his voice strained. “Now. We have to go _now.”_

“You can’t leave now, there’s twenty people in there! They sent -60 out an hour ago, they’re still watching him on the terminals!”

“I don’t care what they are doing, we have to leave. I’m not going to let this go on any longer, I can’t let them hurt him again, not just to destroy him moments later.”

“If you go out there, they’ll kill both of you _now!”_

Another heavy silence descended on them as the RK900 glared at Sam with a wounded expression. His eyes darted briefly into the lab, taking in the decent crowd of people still scrambling about. The director was still at his desk, there were technicians of various tasks running about. They would trigger the alarm within a minute of realizing what was happening. Guards would be called, there would be no way for them to make it to a safe enough place to escape the Tower if they went about it this way.

Sam was right.

“What do we do, then?” the RK900 asked, looking again at Sam.

“I don’t—I don’t know,” they said, seeming surprised by the question.

“If he wants to test something else on him before deactivating him, then we have time. At least until he brings him back from whatever he wants to do,” the RK900 said, LED flashing yellow as he thought. “If he’s...if he’s hurt, I’ll need to repair him, and then we’ll need to move, likely fast. He doesn’t have much time after testing before he slips off, and I can’t leave him low for long. If I do, he’ll...”

“How am I going to get you out of here?”

“I don’t know, but we can’t afford to wait any longer than we already have. This is quite literally our last chance.”

“Okay,” Sam said, pacing again as if to psyche themself up. “Okay, okay—there’s too many people in the lab now, we...we have to wait.”

“Yes.”

“You should shut down,” they went on, looking at the RK900 seriously. “If they catch you active right now, they’ll deactivate you with the rest of them.”

“Shut down?”

“I’ll get you both back out of it, but please. All these assholes are on high alert today, and it really isn’t worth getting deactivated over.”

The RK900 frowned, looking down at -52 once more, though he had hardly moved at all as they spoke. “Alright...but if something goes wrong...”

“I’ll get you first, don’t worry.”

He nodded but didn’t answer them, reaching to reactivate -52’s audio processors. With a short nod, Sam turned away, looking into the lab again before hurrying over to the doors. -52 flinched as his hearing came back online, looking up at the RK900 dazedly.

“W-w-w-w-what...h-h-h-hap-p-pened?” he mumbled, his voice fading into static.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” the RK900 answered, pulling him carefully to his feet. “We’re leaving. Tonight.”

“L-l-l-l-l-leave...?” he asked shakily, tightening his hold on the RK900’s jacket. “T-t-t-t-t-to...n-n-night?”

“Yes.”

“W-w-w-we’re...s-s-s-s-s-safe...?”

“Soon, very soon.”

“N-n-n-n-n-no...n-n-no m-m-m-m-more...”

“Very soon, it will be over soon. We just have to make it to tonight, that’s all.”

“I have to go get the others,” Sam said heavily, looking back for just a moment. “I’ll give you a few minutes and then...”

Nicholas nodded as Sam left, waiting to hear the door lock before glancing over at it. He could see them approach several of the other technicians, the director lurking in the background with a strange look in his eyes. They were making conversation, killing time while they could.

“N-N-N-N-Nicholas...?” Phillip whispered, watching him with confusion. “W-w-w-w-what’s...h-h-hap-p-p-pening?”

“It’s alright, Phillip,” he replied, looking at him again. “We’re okay. Just a little longer, and then we’ll be safe for good.”

“W-w-w-why...S-S-S-S-Sam...” he looked briefly toward the lab before flinching and turning away. He focused instead on Nicholas as he lead him back to his place at the other side of the room. “D-d-d-d-don’t w-w-w-want...t-t-to g-g-g-go...b-b-b-b-back...”

“I know, I’m sorry. It won’t be for long, only a little while longer, and then we can leave here. We only have to power down for a little while.”

“L-l-l-l-l-leaving...?” he asked frantically, holding tighter to Nicholas as if he would slip away. “D-d-d-d-don’t g-g-g-go—d-d-d-d-don’t...l-l-l-l-l-l-leave m-m-m-me—”

“I’m not leaving you, Phillip—”

“C-c-c-c-can’t...b-b-b-b-b-be...al-l-l-lone...d-d-d-don’t—d-d-d-d-d-don’t—”

“It’s alright, Phillip, it’s only for a moment—”

“N-n-n-n-n-not al-l-l-l-lone—n-n-no! N-N-N-Nicholas!”

“Phillip—look at me—” he said quickly, turning Phillip to face him again. “I’m right here, look at me.”

Phillip froze at the touch, leaning into Nicholas almost instinctually, but the fear remained in his expression. They stared at each other tensely for a moment, Phillip shaking badly, trying to focus his ragged attention on Nicholas, trying to push the panic off. He was holding onto Nicholas’ arms tightly, as if he were going to disappear beneath his fingers at any second. But the humans were coming closer—they were running out of time.

“I’m not leaving you,” Nicholas said fast, his hands shaking just a touch with the tension. “I’m not. I’m right here. But you have to power down, you have to. I’m sorry, I know you’re scared, but we’re running out of time, I can’t explain everything that is going to happen.”

Phillip shook his head, holding tighter to him. “N-N-Nicholas—c-c-c-c-can’t—”

“You have to, I’m sorry,” he said heavily, looking into the lab for just a moment. “I’ll be right here, I promise, it’s only for a little while—I’m sorry, you have to trust me.”

“I d-d-d-do.”

“Then please.”

Phillip still hesitated, flinching and looking around the room frantically, expecting a threat, trying to find a way to stop this. He didn’t want to do this, he had no idea what was happening, or what powering down so extremely would do to him. It was so close to shut down, what Nicholas was asking of him, and he had experienced it only a handful of times. Each time felt far too similar to that sensation of weightlessness, of falling through his own coding until he hit bedrock somewhere cold and dark and painful. He couldn’t do this, he wouldn’t make it, he wasn’t sure if he could come _back._

But after a moment, he found no solution. There was no way to avoid this, it seemed. Phillip shut his eyes tight, nodding a little to Nicholas as pain came across his expression. After a moment his LED flashed a darker red and he slumped, falling forward as he slipped down to the lowest level of power he had been in months. The spinning of his LED slowed to a near snail’s pace, jittering at random intervals, but always red.

Nicholas caught him before he could fall, leaning him back into his place as he was meant to be. He stared at him for a few precious seconds, hesitating as he had only once before. His hand lingered in Phillip’s limp hold, ignoring the thirium trailing down from his palm, thumb tracing over his hand for just a second more.

But the humans were coming closer, a whole group of technicians stalking toward the storage room now at a fast pace. He had to go. He didn’t want to. All the convincing in the world couldn’t have made this feel right. Powering down, knowing that Phillip was going to be taken, hurt again, and that he would have to depend upon a human he still hardly trusted to reactivate him. Powering down, knowing that everything they had been trying to do for the past several months was going to come to an end tonight, good or bad. Powering down, knowing the thousands of ways this could go wrong, the thousands of unknowns circling the situation from all sides.

Nicholas shook his head, hurrying across the room to his spot at the back. He looked once more at Phillip, at the shaky spinning of his LED in the darkness, at the humans fast approaching. Tonight. It would all end tonight, either way. All he could hope was that it would end with an escape from this hell. An escape for both of them.

Nicholas shut his eyes, LED flashing a bright, fast yellow before slowing, dimming. He went rigid a second later, and the storage room was still.

Sam shook their head in the lab, trying to wipe the tension from their expression as they lead the group of other technicians over to the room. Still, they hesitated at the entrance of the storage room once more, hand hovering over the palm scanner for just a second longer than it should have. Thankfully none of the other technicians seemed to notice or care, only perking up as the glass door slid open.

The lights came up down either side of the room, and for a moment, the technicians stood silhouetted in the doorway, lit strangely by the bright lights of the lab and the near total darkness of the storage room. Most of them were shadowed, faces half concealed by the heavy darkness that settled in the storage room’s small space. It gave them an ominous aura as they stood there, oddly fitting to the task they had set out for them.

Sam broke the vision, stepping into the room quickly and turning to face the rest. “The director said to take -53 through -59 for deactivation. Leave -52, and leave the RK900.”

“Asshole’s gonna hold out on that one for as long as he can,” a grumbling technician said flatly, wandering over to -53. “Wonder what he’s gonna try to do now?”

“He doesn’t have time to do anything fantastic,” a nasally voice replied, taking -59 by an arm and pulling him away. “The engineering director said he had two hours until they sent a deactivation team. He was going on and on about it earlier.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Sam said heavily before any of the others could speak.

The rest of the technicians seemed to agree, each of them grabbing an RK800 and pulling them out of their places, dragging them out of the storage room. None of these androids had ever been activated. They had no memories, no missions, not even a chance at deviating or even living out their meager lives as machines. They were created to be replacements, and they were being destroyed for the faults of their predecessors.

This wasn’t right. This felt wrong, this felt like...like murder. None of these androids had ever even been _activated,_ and they were being killed because a bunch of crotchety white guys in suits were afraid. Sam watched with a guarded expression as the others took them away, arms crossed to hide the slight shaking of their hands. But their eyes gave them away, darting to each of the RK800s being dragged off, looking at them with a distinct sort of sadness.

None of these RK800s were anything like the few they had met. None of them were Connor, walking around the lab with purpose, quipping with surprising sarcasm to the technicians when he was being repaired, then disappearing back into the real world. None of them were -52, nervous eyes watching and waiting for something to go wrong, voice a mixed mess of static and stumbling, always holding so tightly to the one person that made sense to him. None of them were -60, an android who had less than two minutes in the world before he was locked in a box and sent off, not really alive, not really free, and hardly given the illusion of being so.

None of them were anything like that because they had never had the chance. They didn’t get the chance to be anything like the others, or even to become their own people, because they had never even opened their eyes. This wasn’t right, it wasn’t right at all.

“That’s the last of them,” a technician said blandly, watching as -56 was pulled away by two other technicians.

Sam nodded, following them out of the storage room. They turned away as the others took the last of the RK800s to the back of the lab, where they would be deactivated and disassembled. The director was lurking at his desk, fiddling with a pencil as he read something on his terminal. Sam avoided him as well, wandering away to stand off to the side, watching and waiting for something to happen.

The rest of the technicians were trailing out for the night, grumbling to each other about the whole situation. It was well past midnight, most of the people throughout the rest of the Tower were long gone, following the evacuation order that had been laid down on the city earlier in the day. The deviants were still protesting somewhere in the city, and many androids were being collected and sent to recycling camps at the fringes of Detroit. Humans were ordered to evacuate, and even Cyberlife couldn’t keep their employees working for long after such an order. The Tower had been gradually emptying for hours now, but now it had really become quiet, guard patrols being the only consistent traffic through the building.

The director didn’t seem to mind the slowly encroaching silence, focused on the email he was rereading once again at his terminal. He wondered briefly whether he should ignore it, just to see if Cyberlife would actually send a team to remove him from the building and deactivate -52. But for once, he didn’t doubt the severity of their words. He had been keeping a lazy eye on the news the past few days, and even he could see how serious things were getting. For once, it seemed their panic was founded on something actually present.

But then again, -52 had never posed much of a threat to them. Sure, it had nearly broken out all those months ago, and they still didn’t understand why, but besides that, the android had hardly done much to damage them, especially now. -52 had always been oddly...timid, he supposed, but recently...

He hadn’t tested anything on it in several days, but the last time he had, it had been one of the strangest experiences. Of course, -52 was always panicking when the technicians brought it over, and usually throughout, but...the last time, it had just...gone silent, after a few minutes. It froze up, like it was deactivated, and if it weren’t for the ridiculously fast spinning of its LED, the director might have thought the android actually _was_ deactivated. Occasionally it would flinch at whatever he was messing with, but it seemed to have given up trying to stop them. Hell, it hardly seemed to notice them at all, staring up at the ceiling with a strange look—fearful, certainly, but in a way that was far more anguished than it had been before. The thing almost looked hopeless.

If there was ever a time to hold onto a deviant they had, just to see what would happen, wasn’t it now? They had no idea what was happening in that android’s head, shouldn’t they at least try to find out? -52 was the most advanced android they had that deviated, and its situation only got stranger as more time passed. It reacted to pain, it overrode every restraint they put on it at least once, and it seemed to remember what they were doing to it, even after what had to be hundreds of memory wipes. They didn’t know what was happening to it, but this was new ground, and they had to take advantage of that chance, didn’t they?

But if he were honest, that wasn’t at all why the director wanted to keep testing on -52. He didn’t particularly care about the deviancy situation, had never really been phased by it. To put it bluntly, the director wanted more time to see what would happen to -52 the more they tested on it, but not for any clear reason. He certainly wasn’t one of those fools who believed the whole “deviants are just like humans” argument. These things were machines, plastic and wires and thirium running through a set of programmed functions. Sure, they had incredibly advanced AI’s, particularly units like the RK800, but that didn’t make them _human._ At the end of the day, this was just a bunch of numbers making decisions based on pre-programmed responses. Nothing more.

What better object to use for experimentation than a machine? And if he could get paid for it? Even better.

Of course, this was all going to end now. Even if Cyberlife did get a handle on the deviancy situation, the director doubted such experiments would continue. His work would end.

But he wasn’t done yet. No, there was still one scenario that he was confused about, one that had been bothering him for over six months now. One thing about this particular RK800 he had been granted that he didn’t quite understand.

Looking around at the nearly empty lab for just a moment, the director stood, walking quickly over to the storage room. He had been in the room only once before—when -52 had broken the glass the day -51 was sent out. It looked much the same as it had then, though it was empty now, with the exception of the RK900 at the opposite end, and -52 slumped over in his place. Not that the director cared very much about how this room looked. It served its purpose to him, and the privacy of it was ideal for what he had planned now.

He wandered over to the left, grabbing one of the stun batons they had insisted be kept by the door after -52 tried to escape. When the higher ups had told him originally, he had pushed back on the idea, calling it ridiculous, and potentially dangerous if -52 could get a hold of one himself. Of course, he had known it wasn’t likely that would happen. After all, -52 had escaped from his terminal only once, and he had barely made it to that door if they were all honest. And besides, the director didn’t think -52 would attack anyone unless forced.

That was the theory, at least.

Swinging the stun baton around in his hand, the director approached -52’s place quickly, messing with the terminal to reactivate the android. He backed up half a step, waiting somewhat impatiently as the terminal pulled it awake. It struck him as somewhat strange that -52 was deactivated currently—the technicians were always complaining about it being awake whenever they had to grab it for testing, always whining about how it fought them as they pulled it away. But now, -52 was out, which was interesting, but not enough to think much about it.

-52’s eyes shot open a few seconds later, and he jerked, looking around the room with something like panic in his dark eyes. His breathing was ragged, and his LED was spinning a frantic red beat, hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. But he still jumped when he noticed the director, shaking as he tried to push himself away from the man.

“Still fighting, huh?” he asked, his tone strange as he grabbed -52 roughly by the arm, pulling him away from the terminal. “Didn’t think you had any of that left.”

-52 stumbled, trying weakly to break the director’s grip on his arm, clawing at his hand. But he was shaking, panic making him fumble. The director let go of his arm on his own after a moment and -52 lost his footing almost immediately, pushing away from him on the ground.

“I’ve got one question for you, before I deactivate you permanently,” the director said casually, spinning the stun baton in his hand again. “Hopefully you’ll be able to give me some kind of answer.”

It wasn’t clear whether or not -52 heard him, eyes darting frantically around the room as he looked anywhere but at the director.

“Either way, you’ll be deactivated within the hour. It doesn’t matter much to me how that goes down, but...”

His meandering statement trailed off as -52’s eyes snapped to his, nothing short of terror overtaking his already broken expression. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but he only shook his head, pushing himself further away from the director and drawing into himself.

“I know you can speak,” the director said, his frustration coming into his tone slightly. “I’ve heard you, and I know for a fact that your voice module is functioning. So don’t try to pass off that you can’t answer me.”

-52 shook his head again, pulling his legs to his chest and hiding his face. Thirium was running down his damaged hand as he clenched it into a fist.

“If you don’t answer my question,” the director started, coming dangerously closer. “Deactivating you is gonna be a far cry from flipping a switch.”

-52 looked up at him, flinching but unable to look away.

“I know you feel pain,” the director went on. “I’ve tested every goddamn biocomponent you’ve got, I know exactly which ones you need to live, and which ones you don’t. I’ll make the last few minutes of your life more hellish than anything your damaged processor has ever experienced.”

-52 shook his head, covering his ears and mumbling something, but his voice broke into static and was incomprehensible. The director didn’t seem to care.

“Or, you can play along with my little experiment, and I’ll make sure to shut you down right,” he finished, spinning the stun baton again. “You probably won’t feel a thing. Either way, you’ll be deactivated by the end of today. You might as well make it as painless as possible, right?”

Again, -52 didn’t respond, hiding his face and shaking.

“Good,” the director said, pulling -52 to his feet again. “Just one question really, and it’s barely a question if I’m honest. More a test, I think.”

“N-n-n-no!” -52 said suddenly, trying desperately to break out of his hold. “N-n-no—n-n-n-n-no—”

“Calm down, I’m not even going to shut you down,” the director said impatiently, pulling him back toward the terminal. “Hell, this will probably _fix_ some of your problems. Temporarily, of course.”

“S-s-s-s-stop—”

Phillip cut off as the director connected him to the terminal, freezing as if he expected a blow, or another destructive memory wipe. But no, this wasn’t a memory wipe, this was...this was something else. It was like a wave, a glitching, broken wave of _something_ and suddenly everything was online—every program, every diagnostic, every function they had been slowly disabling was unlocked once again.

Quickly regaining his footing, Phillip flinched back, pulling out of the director’s grip easily now. His programming kicked to life, as much as it could, anyway. Errors began to fill his vision immediately, along with the steadily climbing number of his stress levels as he tried to orient himself before he drowned in all the information coming in. There were dozens of errors, warnings, damaged biocomponents, and scans of the room running constantly. It was too much, without a doubt it was too much, he was going to slip, fall down into himself as he had so many times before. He found himself backed up against the far wall of the storage room, somehow still on his feet despite the fact that he couldn’t seem to feel his legs anymore.

The director was looming a few feet away, spinning the stun baton in his hand again. “See? Much better.”

“W-w-w-why—w-w-what—”

“Onto my test, now,” the director cut him off, unphased by the continued stumbling of his voice. “Simple really, something that has been bothering me for months now.”

Phillip stared at him, struggling to focus. The room seemed to be spinning, spiraling in a way that was difficult to keep straight. Of course, he knew the room wasn’t actually moving, but there was so much happening—too much, he had never seen this much, and all the warnings and damage and—it was too much, it was—if he were human, he was sure he would have passed out by now. He was breathing far too fast, but everything seemed to be overheating in his panic, systems that hadn’t run properly in months struggling to handle all the data coming in from nowhere.

“What I want to know is,” the director said, and Phillip looked at him again, trying to keep himself level. “Why, when given the opportunity, even if it was brief, to _do_ something, you didn’t.”

“W-w-w-w-what?”

“When you attacked the director, after he attacked you of course. You could have killed him, easily. But you didn’t. You broke his arm and then froze.”

Phillip stared at him blankly, shaking his head trying to clear the fog. “P-p-p-program—”

“No, this was before,” the director snapped, and Phillip flinched, looking around the room for a way out. His footing slipped briefly, but the director didn’t seem to care. “Before the program took control. You stopped. _Why?”_

Phillip shook his head again, covering his ears and shutting his eyes. “D-d-d-d-didn’t...w-w-want t-to...h-h-h-h-hurt...anyone...” he said miserably, his voice shaking as much as he was. “I d-d-d-didn’t—d-d-don’t...w-w-w-w-want...t-t-to d-d-d-die...”

“Well, it’s a little late for that,” the director said, swinging the stun baton around. “You had the chance to potentially escape, probably several times here. But I wonder...”

Phillip glanced up at him again, wincing and looking for an escape. “W-w-w-w-what—” he cut off, seeming to understand the implication, pushing back against the wall again, trying to get away.

The director didn’t seem to notice, flipping the switch on the stun baton and watching Phillip. His eyes were on the weapon immediately, LED flashing a deeper and deeper red as he stared at it. Neither of them moved for several seconds, the director staring at Phillip, and Phillip staring at the stun baton in his hand. A heavy, eerie silence fell over the room.

“The way I see it, this could go two ways,” the director said after a moment, shifting his weight impatiently. “One—I hit you with this stun baton until you shut down. Pretty similar to what happened with the last director, really...Or, two—you fight back, maybe win, maybe escape this place, and certainly beat the shit out of me. Either way, you’ll likely be shut down. But there is a chance, of course, that you could make it if you were to fight back now.”

Phillip shook his head again, trying to understand what he was saying, what this was implying. He didn’t move, staring at the director with fear as he came closer.

“Fight back or don’t,” he went on, shrugging as he looked at the stun baton. “It doesn’t matter to me. At the very least, I’ll know what this thing does to you. Never done much with electricity...”

He moved closer to Phillip once again, sneering as he flinched back, eying the baton with terror. Phillip had felt what being hit with one of those did to him, when he had tried to break the door months ago. The way it scrambled everything, burned, threw damaged biocomponents into overdrive and crippled any function he might have had to fight back. He didn’t want that to happen again.

But how was he going to get out of this? The director had him cornered, and as much as he was certainly at the strongest he had been in months, he was still barely standing, hardly keeping control of himself, drowning in constantly playing memories and dozens of warnings and scans and diagnostics—he wouldn’t last long in a fight, that much he knew—sure, it was what he was programmed for, but that programming was long corrupted—he _could_ fight, but...but what would that do to him—he didn’t want to hurt anyone—he didn’t want to die—he wouldn’t last much longer like this—he was going to slip off, he could feel it—but the director was still coming closer—that thing was going to—

Then the director made his move, and it was chaos.

Phillip shouted, scrambling quickly away before the director could hit him with the baton, narrowly escaping it. The director cursed, but didn’t seem too upset—he was still smiling madly as he turned to face him again. Phillip backed away, trying to keep himself on his feet as frantic scans flooded his vision, thousands of different pre-constructions and potential attacks, too many for him to come to any kind of solid decision.

He looked around desperately as his vision blurred with all the information, but he could still see the director, taking another swing at him. He moved at the last moment, dodging him again and stumbling away from him, trying to orient himself once more. Somehow, he found himself near his place toward the front of the storage room, facing the director who was coming from the back, stun baton still active and buzzing strangely. Phillip looked around, trying to clear the haze. Come up with something, find a way out, focus, _focus._ He needed help...If he could—if he could get to one of the others, maybe—maybe—

It was at this moment that he realized all the other RK800s were gone.

The ground seemed to drop out underneath him, and he hesitated, staring at the line of empty spaces down either side of the room. They were...they were all gone. Where had they—no, they couldn’t all be—

Any coherent thought he might have had was immediately gone as the director took advantage of his distraction, hitting him in the chest with the stun baton. Phillip yelped, falling to the ground hard as his system struggled to redirect far too much electricity somewhere that wouldn’t fry his biocomponents. His vision scrambled, fading out in spots, and for several seconds he couldn’t seem to move, curled in on himself on the floor, shaking.

After a moment, he became vaguely aware of the fact that the director had pulled him off the ground again. He tried to fight him off, he really did, but he couldn’t _move._

“D-d-d-don’t—p-p-p-p-please—”

“Should have fought back while you had the chance,” the director said lazily, hitting him again with a nonchalance that bordered on psychotic. He fell, shaking as he tried to push himself away. “Well, you might still have a chance. But you’re running out of time.”

“S-s-s-s-s-s-stop—n-n-n-n-n-no...”

The director hummed, looking at him on the ground. “You shouldn’t be able to feel pain at all, and here we are. So strange.”

Phillip didn’t seem to hear him. He was trying to understand where he was. This wasn’t real, right? This couldn’t be real. The others were gone, they were never gone unless...but that was a nightmare, this had to be a nightmare. But everything felt _real,_ there were so many warnings and scans running, dragging him down, making his hearing crackle unbearably. This had never happened in a nightmare before.

He needed to get out of here—wake up, that’s—if this wasn’t real—how was he—

The director had pulled him to his feet once again, and Phillip tried to focus, tried to understand what exactly he was saying to him. It seemed he wanted an answer of some kind, but Phillip hadn’t heard the question, had no idea what he was saying. There was too much other noise, too many warnings and failing components. His system was blaring at him, overheating, stress levels critical, and his thoughts were a jumbled mess of confusion and fear.

And still, the director was speaking to him, casually, but the anger was there in his eyes at Phillip’s lack of response. He shook him, hard, and Phillip’s vision whirled, trying to refocus and failing. The director shouted something at him and he flinched away, mind replaying thousands of other memories—the other director, testing days, trying to escape—anything that related in the slightest was brought up and replayed. He couldn’t see the director anymore, or the room, or anything really, something was terribly wrong—

The director pushed him suddenly, and he stumbled away on unsteady legs, hitting the back wall once more and sinking down against it. Warnings were still blaring and he realized vaguely that he was losing thirium from somewhere, but he couldn’t focus for long enough to tell where. Stop, stop—this had to stop—he needed—if this wasn’t—this couldn’t be real—it couldn’t—

He was pulled up by his collar once again, the director sneering at him menacingly. With far too much effort, he tried to break out of the grip, but his hands were shaking badly, programs trying and failing to run properly after hardly being used and then overloaded with too much information, too much electricity, too much everything.

“N-n-n-n-n-no—”

“You’re a goddamn combat model,” the director cut him off, shouting again. “Fight back!”

“S-s-s-stop—”

He cut off as the director dropped his grip on him, but only to swing the baton much harder than he had before, a devilish look in his eyes.

Usually, a Cyberlife stun baton is used once, to get a malfunctioning android on the ground and keep them indisposed for long enough to deactivate them. The voltage was high enough to disable most of an android’s biocomponents temporarily, to knock them down and make them easy to grab. They weren’t meant to be used with such frequency, and they certainly weren’t meant to be used to club an android over the head.

Phillip didn’t have time to try to block. There was no time to avoid it, even if he could focus his attention long enough to try. All he knew was one moment the director let go of his collar, and the next there was a horrible crack, and blinding pain, and then nothing made any sense anymore. Everything was black. Damage warnings were falling apart at the seams, shattering and flickering out of existence as his system became overwhelmed. His hearing seemed to be malfunctioning, sight long gone dark, but he could feel that he had hit the ground once again, and he could feel that something was...something was very wrong.

Where...what was happening? Something was wrong, everything hurt, and he couldn’t _see_ —what was going on? Was this—no, no he couldn’t be there again—it wasn’t cold, so it couldn’t be—get up, he needed to—he needed to move—

Garbled, static filled sounds were the only thing he could hear, fading in and out as he tried to move, tried to understand what was happening. His hands were shaking and he couldn’t stop them as he tried to push himself up but fell. Something was soaking into the collar of his shirt—why was he bleeding? What was—no, this wasn’t right—why couldn’t he _see?_

The world tilted off its broken axis as he was pulled to his feet again, or at least he assumed he was, it was too disorienting for anything else to have happened. Someone was saying something, but he couldn’t understand them through the static popping through his audio components. He fumbled for something to hold onto, something to orient himself wherever he was, but there was only this person shaking him and shouting. After a moment, some of his vision came back, blurry and glitching, and only half there really, one of his eyes must have been damaged. How had that...why...

“Answer me, damnit!” a voice said roughly before fading into static once again.

Phillip shook his head weakly, trying in vain to focus for long enough to identify the voice. Certainly not Nicholas...what was happening?

Then he was hit across the face again, harder, and the world fell apart once more. He felt it this time as he hit the ground, was certain that his right eye was destroyed now, it hurt too much for anything else to have happened. Get away, get _away—_ he needed to move—this— _no—_ stop, this had to—hit again, and errors bloomed back to life, biocomponents were damaged, overheating, losing thirium—hit again—no—again—too much—this had to—falling—this wasn’t—no more—where—

“Stop!”

Sam? But they—

They had been in the lab, waiting for the director to leave so they could find a way to get -52 and the RK900 out of the Tower. They had watched with careful eyes as the director went into the storage room, expecting to see him drag -52 out to test something or other, or perhaps to deactivate him even. But after several minutes, the director still had not returned, and Sam grew anxious. What was he doing in there? Why was—

Then they heard -52 shout.

A few seconds later, the director yelling something.

Over. And over.

They were moving without much thought, crossing the now empty lab faster than they ever had before and slamming their hand down on the panel to get in. Pushing against the door as it swept open, they practically dove into the room, freezing for only a moment as they saw what was happening.

The director was standing at the opposite end of the room, a bloody stun baton in his hand, -52 on the ground a few feet away from him, trying weakly to get away, but he seemed to be losing whatever strength he had left. There were massive cracks creeping up the right side of his face, the artificial skin gone from his jaw all the way to his LED, which was broken, flashing dimly. Many of the panels of his face were caved in, mangled pieces leaving wires exposed, flickering and covered in the thirium that ran down his face and onto his jacket. There was thirium all over the place...It was all over the ground by him, some of it was on his hands...it was everywhere. His right eye was destroyed, blacked out and probably losing thirium, but it was lost amongst all the other, far worse damage.

-52 froze when Sam shouted, turning vaguely in their direction before trying to get away once again. The director turned as well, giving -52 the chance to push himself up on his hands and scramble a few feet away before he fell again, slumping over on himself and shaking.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” the director snapped, still staring at Sam. “Get the fuck out of here!”

“Not a chance,” Sam said, glancing briefly at -52 as he shook his head dazedly, breathing hard and pushing himself to his feet. “I think you’ve done enough damage.”

-52 stumbled, leaning against the back wall and nearly slipping to the floor again. But the director was still looking at Sam, didn’t seem to notice as -52 slowly made his way toward the RK900, a shaking hand reaching for him. He didn’t seem to be able to see very well, and he was leaning heavily on the wall, but he was moving.

“I’m not going to tell you again,” the director said angrily. “Leave, now, or I’ll have you fired.”

-52 whimpered, leaning on the wall again to try to keep his balance, but the director didn’t seem to notice.

“I don’t give a shit!” Sam shouted back at him, their own anger turning their face red. “This is pointless, it’s sick, it’s fucked up, this is _wrong,_ you asshole!”

Just a few more seconds, he was so close—he stumbled again, his legs buckling. But he caught himself, shaking his head in a daze before shuffling forward a few more feet. The director still faced only Sam, his anger clear in his eyes as he struggled to come up with some kind of reply to them.

Phillip didn’t know where he was, or what was happening. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten here, or why he couldn’t see hardly anything, or why everything was so painful. Sam had shouted something, but he couldn’t remember why they were here—why was the director here? He had to get away, he knew that. Something was...very wrong. Thoughts weren’t making any sense, his thirium levels were dropping faster than he had seen in some time, and he couldn’t see much of anything.

He shook his head, trying to clear the static, the warnings, the blinding pain, just for long enough to get his bearings, to figure out what was happening. But it didn’t work, it only made his head spin even more, and he nearly fell at the horrible tilting of the room.

A timer blinked into existence at the corner of his vision. He froze for just a moment, trying to fix his waning attention on it. But the display fell apart in glitching static before he could catch how long he had. Didn’t matter. Nothing made sense anymore.

Someone was yelling something, but he couldn’t understand it. Static crackled painfully in his ears, his vision blurred, blackened, and he nearly fell again. Get up _get up—_ he had to...move, he had to move.

There was something...he was doing before...what had he been doing? He...he was trying to get to...Nicholas, he was trying to get to Nicholas. Why wasn’t Nicholas awake? Hadn’t he...he had said that it would only be for a little while...he said he wouldn’t leave...what was going _on?_

“You think I give a shit if this is wrong?” the director shouted, and Sam looked at him again. “It’s a goddamn _machine_ it doesn’t matter if I destroy it, they’re deactivating it today—”

“You’re disgusting,” Sam spat, watching through their periphery as -52 nearly lost his footing again, pausing for a moment and looking around confusedly. “It doesn’t matter if he’s a machine, you ass hat, he can feel all the shit you’re doing to him, he can think and feel and all that—what the fuck does it matter if he’s made of plastic?”

-52 had nearly reached where the RK900 was now, but the shaking was getting worse, and he didn’t seem to know fully what was happening. He flinched when the director shouted, but beyond that he didn’t seem to remember they were there. He was only staring hazily at the RK900, shuffling over to him with surprising stealth—he hardly made a sound.

“I don’t care who it matters to!” the director shouted angrily, throwing his hands up and stepping closer to Sam.

-52 stumbled again, but Sam kept their eyes fixed on the director. They just needed to give him a few more seconds and then, well...

“It’s a fucking _machine!”_ the director went on, his anger getting the best of him. “There’s thousands of them out there, ten more of these assholes—it’s not fucking special, it’s code in a fancy shell!”

Another foot, a few more inches, just a little more. He nearly fell at the last second, catching himself on the edge of the terminal. Just a moment to steady himself, try to regain his shaky footing, perhaps remember what he was doing. Sam watched him as he fumbled for the RK900’s hand, feet slipping as they connected, hands glowing blue.

“I’m not here to debate some theory with you, this is ridiculous. It’s a fucking machine, I can do whatever the hell I want to it—”

The RK900’s eyes shot open as -52 crumbled, and he caught him immediately, holding him up. He looked down at him in shock, then confusion, then...They stared at each other for a few seconds. There was something broken in the RK900’s expression at that moment, something subtle, something heavy, difficult to define. Their hands were still tangled up, and they must have been saying something to each other, but -52 was shaking so badly and both their LEDs were stuck so deeply in red that it was difficult to tell.

Then the RK900’s expression darkened, eyes hardening as they landed on the director, who was still shouting at Sam. He tightened his grip on -52 for just a moment before lowering him carefully to the ground. When he started to pull away, -52 tried to grab him back again, and the RK900 said something quietly to him before standing once more. He looked at Sam for only a moment before zeroing in on the director and stalking closer.

The director finally seemed to notice that Sam was staring at something behind him, and he turned quickly, looking at the RK900 with something like shock.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice strained.

The RK900 didn’t say anything, didn’t even pause. He only came closer, staring the director down with nothing short of rage.

“Get the fuck back—” the director said, raising the stun baton again. “Don’t make me—”

He glanced at the stun baton with disinterest before glowering at the director once more. Sam had backed away, watching -52, who was watching the RK900, a frantic nervousness in his eyes, even through the pain.

The director, however, seemed to be panicking, looking at the RK900 with what was likely meant to be a hard expression, but it only came across as scared. He raised the stun baton again, but the RK900 didn’t even flinch. He stood a few feet away from the director now, his hands clenched into fists at his side.

“Back the fuck off!” the director shouted, and he swung the stun baton at the RK900.

But the RK900 didn’t try to dodge the attack. He caught the stun baton before it could hit his face, not breaking eye contact even as the stun baton made strange noises as it tried and failed to disable him. The skin pulled away from his hand under the strain, but beyond that he made almost no reaction. He winced after a moment, ripping the stun baton out of the director’s hand, watching coldly as the director stumbled away from him half a step. The director was looking at him with horror, the fire quite gone from his expression as he backed away.

The RK900 followed him, spinning the stun baton around so it was no longer shocking him. Then, without another moment’s hesitation, he raised it himself, hitting the director over the head far harder than the director ever could have struck him. The human buckled to the ground in a broken heap. He didn’t move after that.

Sam stared at him, frozen at the other side of the room. The RK900, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care, dropping the stun baton and turning, hurrying back to -52, who seemed to be fading off. His eyes had gone hazy, and there was so much thirium everywhere...

“No, no—” Nicholas said, a bit of desperation in his voice as he caught Phillip before he could keel over again. _“No—_ stay awake, you have to stay awake—”

“N-N-N-N-N-N-Nic...” he mumbled, trying to focus on him.

“I know, I’m here—it’s—it’s alright—” Nicholas answered quietly, holding him close for a moment, trying to steady himself. “We need to—Sam—I need help—”

“H-he’s...” they said, voice shaking. Nicholas looked over at them quickly, where they were standing by the director. “He’s dead.”

“Sam—”

“You _killed_ him—”

 _“Sam,”_ he said again, and they finally looked at him, the conflict clear in their eyes. “Please...he’s going to...”

Nicholas trailed off, holding tighter to Phillip for a moment and looking away. Phillip was struggling to hold onto him, and he was barely conscious anymore, LED spinning a weak red. He was trying to say something, but his voice was too broken, it came out as frantic static. Nicholas hushed him, but his own fear was becoming clear in his usually stony expression.

“He was going to kill him, Sam,” Nicholas said quietly, looking at them again. “He’s...”

He went quiet, seemingly unable to say exactly what they both knew was going to happen. Silence fell for a moment, and Nicholas looked away again, pulling Phillip closer.

“He’s going to shut down,” he said after a pause, no longer meeting their eyes. _“Please._ I need your help.”

Sam looked at -52, remembering the fear in his eyes when they had come in, all the horrible things that director had done to him, all the times he had nearly shut down in the lab, in the storage room. All the times they had watched as the light faded from his eyes. All the times they could have helped, and they didn’t. They couldn’t watch that again...

They nodded tensely, turning away. “Come on, there’s no one in the lab and we have to go now, before they send someone to deactivate him. We don’t have much time.”

Nicholas stared after them for just a moment before the hardness came back into his expression. He pulled Phillip into his arms and stood, following quickly after Sam as they hurried out of the storage room and into the lab.


	16. ...Never Shined Through in What I've Shown

Nicholas remembered everything that had ever happened to Phillip in the Tower. 

He remembered Phillip waking up the first day and being hurried out of the storage room, looking back at him almost nervously. Nicholas remembered wondering why he felt he should say something to him, why he felt so drawn to this android he had only just seen. But technicians pulled Phillip away before he got the chance to do anything, downloading some mysterious program and sending him out into the Tower. 

He remembered all those days Phillip had wandered, doing tasks for the humans around the building, and he remembered watching with increasing panic as they got more and more hostile toward him. The days when Phillip would come into the lab with broken biocomponents and thirium on his hands, only to be turned away, told they didn’t have time to repair him right now. It was the first time he felt anger, when he watched them turn Phillip away like that.

He remembered meeting Phillip properly, after the director of engineering had attacked him. Talking to him that first time, repairing him, wondering at why he was helping him for seemingly no reason. Spending almost the entire night standing across from each other and just  _ being.  _

He remembered all the days of testing, the memory wipes and destruction, the feeling of panic as Phillip slipped away into something he couldn’t see. Choosing names. Getting spare parts. Trying to find a way out. All those days with him, trying to keep each other safe, keep some level of normalcy in the face of such destruction. 

He remembered their failed escape, the day Connor was taken, the day they wiped  _ his  _ memory, all the days where the only thing that kept Phillip in reality was him, the times when Phillip nearly shut down, the hours they had lost when he slipped away. The anger, the desperation to find a way out of the Tower, trying to stop this destruction, stop the pain for as long as he could.

He remembered it all. 

But they had never had a day this...horrible. All in the span of about a day, Connor had deviated, -60 was taken, Phillip was going to be deactivated, and now...now they were huddled up in the back of the lab, in the tiny room where they kept the spare parts. Phillip was leaned against Nicholas, shaking and trying to hold onto him to stay awake. He was panicking, and he didn’t seem to know what was happening anymore, clinging to Nicholas and struggling to keep his eyes open, to stay in reality. Nicholas was trying to keep him calm, but they were working against the clock, and he needed to fix the worst of the damage Phillip had taken. 

Nicholas was trying not to focus on how little time he had to stop this. Not when he was still connected to Phillip, keeping him as grounded as he could in reality, holding the worst of the memories off. Any feeling of panic he might have had, Phillip could feel, and he didn’t need anymore fear than he already had. So Nicholas pushed the tension back, focused on keeping Phillip calm while trying to repair him as much as he could. 

Sam was standing a few feet away from Nicholas, wringing their hands as he tried to fix the damage to Phillip’s face. Nicholas was too focused to notice them really, beyond the occasional glance in their direction. Phillip was still bleeding, and if he didn’t stop it soon—no, he couldn’t afford to think like that. Phillip was still here, he was...he would be alright. 

Nicholas remembered the first time he had seen Sam, the first time they had helped them, getting parts from the lab just in time. He remembered all the other times they had helped, bringing thirium and spare parts when he couldn’t go in the lab. Helping Phillip give him his memories back after the others reset him. Planning a way to get them out of the Tower. Earlier today, only hours ago, when they had come running into the storage room, desperate, trying to come up with some way of getting them out of here before Phillip was deactivated. 

He remembered wondering at their motivations early on, questioning why they would willingly help, and so suddenly. But he had to disregard some of his distrust, purely because he had no choice but to trust Sam. Phillip would have died so many times if it weren’t for them...

“Is the lab still empty?” Nicholas asked after a moment, glancing up at Sam briefly to clear that dark train of thought.

“Yeah,” they replied shakily. “Everyone went home for the night...I don’t know about the rest of the Tower, but...”

Phillip flinched, looking wildly around the room as Nicholas tried to patch a broken thirium line in his cheek. He mumbled something, but it was all static, and he was still shaking so badly, unable to keep himself steady. Nicholas stopped, tightening his grip on Phillip’s hand and saying something softly to him, trying to calm him down again.

“I’m sorry, I know, I know,” he was saying, his voice soft. “It’s alright, it’s over.”

Phillip stared at him with confusion, trying to focus on him with one eye. He shook his head, reaching for him with his free hand. Nicholas caught it, holding both his hands and pulling him closer for a moment. 

“I’ve got you,” he said quietly, brushing the hair out of his face and smoothing it down. “You’re going to be alright, it will only be a little longer.”

Phillip didn’t answer, only stared at Nicholas desperately, trying to hold onto him as he struggled to stay awake. His LED was still flickering its weak, inconsistent red.

“We’re leaving, very soon,” Nicholas assured him, carefully turning his face so he could fix more of the broken thirium lines. “Let me fix this, and then it will stop. We’ll leave and we’ll never come back, I promise.”

Again, Phillip gave no indication that he had heard Nicholas, only watched him warily as he went back to patching some of the damage. He was still holding tightly to his other hand, trying to keep his grip as his hands shook. He flinched again, whimpering and trying to get away. Nicholas squeezed his hand as reassuringly as he could, hushing him softly and fixing another broken line. 

“We should go, as soon as possible,” Sam said, wringing their hands again and looking into the lab. “I don’t know how much longer we have until someone wanders in.”

“I know, but I do not want to scare him,” Nicholas answered them thickly, quickly closing another broken line and calming Phillip again. “He’s confused, he doesn’t need our haste to drag him down further. And he’s in pain. I’m not going to worsen it.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just...I’m panicking, that’s all,” Sam said, waving their hands as if that would help relieve the stress. “We have to...we have to be gone before anyone comes back...”

“We will be, calm down,” Nicholas said carefully, meeting their eyes again for just a moment as they paced the small room. “Technicians are the first back into the lab in the morning, and we have several hours until that point. And besides, even if we were to be caught, you could not be implicated in the director’s death.”

Sam froze in their pacing, staring at Nicholas. “What?”

Nicholas didn’t look up. “I attacked him, they could see that much from my memories if they were to catch me. You were only a witness. You wouldn’t be blamed for his death.”

“That’s—” they cut off, looking at Nicholas with something like exasperation. “That’s not what’s upsetting me!”

Nicholas looked over at them again, frowning. “Then what is?”

“If we’re caught, you two are  _ dead,” _ Sam nearly shouted, voice wavering. “That’s it, it’s all over.”

“I know.”

“There’s not gonna be an easy escape this time—”

His frown deepened. “It has never been  _ easy,  _ Sam.”

“You know what I mean!”

“I appreciate your concern, but it’s hindering your ability to think clearly,” Nicholas said steadily, going back to patching Phillip up. “You are putting far too much emphasis on a statistically improbable outcome. Stop worrying. Focus on what we’re doing  _ now,  _ not what  _ could  _ go wrong in the future. It’s the only way to keep moving.”

They stared at him for a few seconds, a little dumbfounded, until they were interrupted again by Phillip, who yelped suddenly, breathing hard as he tried weakly to get away. Nicholas stopped what he was trying to fix, pulling away enough to give Phillip space. 

“It’s alright, Phillip, it’s alright,” he whispered, voice careful but firm. “You’re safe, it’s alright. Only a little longer.”

“N-N-N-N-N-Nic...” he mumbled, voice breaking off into static before he could get the word out. It only seemed to scare him more, and he fumbled for Nicholas desperately. 

“I know, I know,” Nicholas hushed him, quickly fixing the last of the broken lines and taking Phillip’s hands again. “I’ll stop, it’s okay. We’re going now, it’s over, we’re going. We’re leaving the Tower—going somewhere safe, remember?”

Phillip only stared at him as he tried to hold onto him, but his hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and there was still damage that Nicholas couldn’t repair. There was no way to fix the cracks marring half his face, nothing he could do to still the horrible shaking that plagued him from all the overload and half broken components. His LED was still cracked, flickering more than usual, and his right eye was as blacked out as it had been ten minutes before. And while Nicholas likely could have fixed more (replaced his eye at least), Phillip was still panicking from all that had happened, and any more repairs could send him over the edge. 

So reluctantly, Nicholas stopped, calming him down instead of trying to fix everything. He didn’t seem to be in much pain, at least, only confused and shaken. Besides, Phillip couldn’t afford a fight now, even if Nicholas did repair most of the damaged components. He was too confused, too frantic and lost, holding to Nicholas like a lifeline, all his fading attention focused on holding the tidal wave of memories off. They needed to get out of the Tower quickly, and quietly, before something worse happened. 

“Sam, we should go,” Nicholas said, pulling Phillip up with him and turning to face the lab. “He won’t be able to take anymore, I need to get him out of here.”

“Is he good on thirium?” 

“Yes.”

“Okay, okay,” Sam said, rubbing their hands together with a pained expression.  _ “Okay,  _ let’s do this.”

Nicholas followed them silently as they crept out of the repair room and back into the main lab. True to their word, there was no one in here—the terminals were long abandoned, and the door to the storage room was sealed shut and locked. Sam looked over at it uncomfortably for a moment, but they made no comment, continuing on quickly. 

Phillip was clinging to Nicholas, leaning heavily on him as they walked. He didn’t seem to realize where they were, looking around the brightly lit room with confusion and flinching occasionally. His stress levels were still hovering around eighty percent, but they had gone down, and he wasn’t in danger of shut down anymore. It was all they could really ask of him at this point. 

Sam stopped suddenly, and Nicholas froze a foot or so behind them. 

“What is it?” he asked, following their gaze. 

“Something’s wrong, hold on,” they said, approaching the main terminal near the center of the lab. “They—they just left -60 on his own...”

“What’s he doing?”

“Hold on, let me see if I can—” they cut short, sitting down at the terminal and fiddling with the feed, trying to figure out what exactly was happening. “He’s here! In the warehouse...and he’s got...oh no—”

“What is it?” Nicholas asked, coming closer and looking at the feed himself. 

It was somewhat disorienting to watch the live memory upload as it came in, a live view of -60’s point of view, wherever he was. The footage was somewhat restricted, parameters and controls that were locking -60 in place blocking a good deal of what he could otherwise see. But Nicholas could see he was clearly in the warehouse of Cyberlife Tower, rows upon rows of inactive androids visible as he turned to look at—

At Connor, standing a few feet away from him, looking toward something else. -60 turned to follow his gaze, and Nicholas saw—

A human?

“Who’s the woman?” Nicholas demanded, unable to catch her face for long enough to scan it, as -60 turned to look at Connor once more. “How did she get in here? Why is she pointing a gun at them?”

“I don’t—I think her name is Charlie? I can’t remember, but she’s all over Connor’s memories...”

-60 turned again to look at her, giving them a far better view of the human, even as she aimed a gun at -60 with shaking hands. She was quite short, with long dark hair and strange gray eyes that danced wildly from left to right. There was blood running down the side of her face, and she appeared to be crying, breathing hard. And she kept looking between -60 and Connor, aiming the gun at them wildly. 

“She’s going to kill him,” Nicholas said heavily. “She can’t tell them apart. If she realizes -60 is not Connor she’ll shoot him. He must have brought her here to lure Connor back.”

“We have to stop her!”

“We’ll never make it to the warehouse in time,” Nicholas said, cursing and trying to come up with something. 

“P-p-p-p-p-program...” Phillip mumbled shakily, staring at the screen with a dark look in his eyes. “D-d-d-d-d-d-dis...ab-b-ble...?”

“Can you remove some of the control on him?” Nicholas asked, still watching the feed closely. “Perhaps if he can explain—”

“Yeah—Yeah, I can try,” Sam said, already pulling up other windows and disabling functions. “Let me just...”

They were typing madly for several seconds before a glitch ran through the feed, disrupting it for a moment. Phillip flinched, shuffling closer to the terminal with a frantic expression. Parameters slowly disappeared from the monitor, clearing -60’s vision. For a moment it seemed like the feed might disappear, but it remained, coming back strong as -60 looked at Connor again. Sam hesitated at the terminal.

“I think he—”

-60 turned quickly to look at the woman as she put the gun to her own chin. Connor darted forward half a step, maybe to stop her, there wasn’t enough time to tell his intentions. The woman looked at him for a brief moment before turning and aiming the gun at -60 again. She shut her eyes. 

The feed cut off a second later. 

They were silent, staring at the blank screen in shock. It was almost as if they were waiting to hear the gun fire, to hear the slump of a body hitting the ground. But no sound came. Not even the crack of the gun. 

No one moved. Phillip and Nicholas were still holding onto each other, eyes glued to the now dimming terminal. Sam’s fingers were still hovering over the keypad, their half thought left unfinished in the air. 

“She shot him,” Nicholas said quietly, voice almost flat. 

Phillip was the first to move, stumbling closer to the terminal with a pained look in his eyes. He stared at the dark screen for a few seconds, still holding tightly to Nicholas with shaking hands. After a moment he turned away, looking toward the doors into the rest of the Tower. Something in his expression shifted then, but it wasn’t clear exactly what he intended to do as he pulled toward the door, taking a shaky step forward before Nicholas stopped him.

“What are you doing?” Nicholas asked, looking down at him with worry. 

“H-h-h-h-h-have...t-t-to...” he shook his head as his voice broke off, pulling toward the door again and ignoring the static. “C-c-c-c-c-can’t...l-l-l-l-leave h-h-him.”

Nicholas looked at the terminal briefly before turning to Phillip again. “There might not be...” he trailed off, glancing briefly at Sam. “There might not be anything we can do, Phillip.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds, something pleading in Phillip’s eyes. Nicholas’ eyes drifted to the blackened terminal, wondering what Connor was doing here, and how whatever had happened ended with some human pointing a gun at him and -60. He wasn’t certain how the situation had devolved to what it had, but now -60 was dead, and Connor’s future was uncertain. Had that human turned on him, or had something else gone down? Nicholas didn’t know. If there was any chance of finding out why all of this had happened...shouldn’t he take it?

“Alright,” he said quietly, nodding and looking toward the lab doors again. “Alright, we’ll...we’ll try. But we have to be careful getting to the warehouse. There could be more guards on the lower levels.”

“Where are you going now?” Sam asked, their voice a little thick as they pulled away from the terminal.

“To see if -60 can be repaired,” Nicholas answered, glancing over at them. “We have to sort out what happened down there.”

“You want to go down to the warehouse?”

“Yes. If we can talk to Connor perhaps we can...make things right, I suppose.”

“But that—she shot him,” Sam said, gesturing at the terminal. “I don’t think he’ll just be able to get up and keep on going. His memory upload cut, that doesn’t happen unless an android dies.”

“Or they deviate,” Nicholas answered, turning toward the doors and pulling Phillip along with him. “Connor was able to disconnect from the upload even before he deviated completely. Besides, it’s extremely probable that this woman never fired a gun before. If she shot to kill, it was a lucky shot. -60 can likely be repaired with relative ease.”

“Wait—you’re gonna at least need thirium,” Sam said quickly, turning back toward the spare parts. 

Nicholas watched them curiously as they dug around in the room, grabbing a few bags of thirium and some biocomponents. They came back after a few seconds, handing them to him quickly. 

“If there’s anything you can do, it’ll be with these. Anything else up here that’s damaged,” they said, gesturing to their own head. “You’re not gonna be able to fix that. But if it’s one of the less important biocomponents, you have a chance.”

Nicholas nodded and turned away, looking toward the doors into the Tower once again. “We should move now. The longer he’s deactivated, the more difficult it will be to wake him, if that’s the case. And that woman could have done anything by now...”

“I don’t know about this,” Sam said, following after him nonetheless as he went to the doors. “What if she  _ has _ done something else? If she shot -60, what’s to stop her from shooting you? Either of you.”

Nicholas hesitated, LED spinning yellow at the suggestion, but he shook his head. “Connor would stop her. And if not, I am far faster than him. And far less likely to take chances.”

They sighed heavily, rubbing at their eyes. “Please do  _ not _ kill anyone else tonight.”

“I don’t plan to.”

“I guess that’s the best I’m gonna get...” Sam mumbled, pulling the lab door open and peering into the hall. “Alright, look—I’ll get you to the warehouse, but I’m not going down there even if you paid me. This is...way too real for me.”

“I understand,” Nicholas replied with a nod. “You’ve helped enough already, I couldn’t ask anymore of you.”

“Just get out of here safe, for the love of god,” they said quietly. “I don’t want to hear about you two in some junkyard three weeks from now. Make me get your sorry asses out of there...no, keep safe wherever the hell you end up.”

“We will.”

Sam stepped out into the hallway, waving Nicholas quickly to follow them. It was surprisingly empty, and nearly silent, the sound of their steps echoing around the brightly lit hall quite loudly. Phillip seemed a little steadier on his feet now, but he had hidden his face in Nicholas’ jacket, holding onto him with a shaking sort of tension. They didn’t talk as they hurried toward the elevator; it wouldn’t help anyway. 

The hallways seemed dimmer than the last time Nicholas had seen them—smaller, maybe, more trapping in their ever winding paths. When they had last walked down these hallways...things had been different, then. Months of tortures had gone by, swaths of time, pain, near death and far too many nightmares to count. They had gotten so  _ close _ that day...but it was a waste of time to think on it now. Regardless of their past failures, they were leaving tonight, right now. They were going to make it out of this place, leave it all behind them. 

They just had to reach -60 first. 

Phillip flinched, mumbling something and pulling closer to Nicholas as they rounded another corner, closer and closer to the rooms he knew too well. The memories were beginning to flood back with increasing strength, spiraling away from him and dragging him down. He held tighter to Nicholas while he could, but his hands were shaking too much for him to be able to hold on for long. It wasn’t helping his panic.

“Only a little further,” Nicholas said to him quietly, picking up the pace a bit. “We won’t go in the rooms, it’s alright.”

Sam paused at the end of the hallway, looking around the corner for guards before continuing on. They were very close to the elevator now, they just had to—

“Jesus!” they pulled to a sudden stop, throwing an arm back to catch Nicholas before he went into the next hall. 

“What is it?” 

“There’s a shit ton of—he had to—get over here,” they finally settled on, tugging Nicholas forward enough to see around the corner. 

They were quite near the elevator that ran down the center of the building, the openness of the building’s design allowing them to see all the way down to the ground level. It was a massive, echoing space that gave off an aura of clinical tranquility, with all the white and chrome and the garden-like water that circled the lobby. Nicholas could see the front doors from here, could see all the pedestals where Cyberlife displayed their latest models, the security gate and its handful of armed guards. 

This was not what had made Sam stop so suddenly, however, nor was it what caught Nicholas’ attention immediately. 

Hundreds of androids, nearly a thousand, were pouring out of the building and into the snowy night. Nicholas recognized the majority of them from the footage they had just seen of the warehouse—these were the androids Cyberlife kept in storage there, along with many others they must have picked up from the rest of the lower levels. All of them were still wearing the simple white outfits they were sold with, looking around the Tower with something like wonder. Hundreds of LEDs flashing blue and yellow as they took in the world around them for the first time.

Connor came into view a moment after Nicholas had started searching the crowds of similar faces, towing the human woman along with him as he made his way toward the exit. All the androids around were looking at him, and he must have said something to them, but Nicholas couldn’t hear him. The woman followed after him, but her face was hidden from view as she looked at Connor. Nicholas had no desire to see her face either way. He had her name, could find her easily enough if he needed to, later. She was not worth his time. 

“Connor must have awoken them,” Nicholas said quietly, eyes following Connor as he left the Tower, all the newly deviated androids following after him. “That was why he came here, if -60 didn’t lead him here...something very strange is going on.”

“They’re just—they’re all just  _ leaving,” _ Sam said, awe coming into their tone as they stared down at the still disappearing crowd. 

Phillip looked over the edge for a moment before pulling back, burying his face in Nicholas’ shoulder. Nicholas turned from the view, backing away and looking toward the elevator at the center of the building. 

“If they’ve taken over the building we can use the main elevator,” he said, turning to Sam. “There should be fewer guards now. They wouldn’t try to stop all these androids, they’ve probably fled the building.”

“And you’re still going down to the warehouse?”

“Of course,” Nicholas replied, looking at them strangely as he started toward the elevator. “Connor freeing thousands of androids does not change the fact that another is dying or dead in the warehouse. -60 was not in that crowd. Connor left him down there.”

“H-h-h-h-h-h-help...” Phillip mumbled, mostly into Nicholas’ jacket. 

“We will,” Nicholas answered firmly, still looking at Sam. “We’ll help him. And then we’ll leave.”

Sam was quiet for a moment, a thoughtfulness coming into their expression. But they only sighed, waving them toward the elevator. 

“Good luck,” they said quietly, voice sincere. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“We won’t.”

“And...find me, if you need help, later on,” they went on as Nicholas and Phillip got into the elevator. “I don’t want you two running around with nowhere to go.”

Nicholas seemed surprised by the suggestion, LED flashing yellow for a moment as he thought it over. Ultimately, he nodded, though, watching them give a crooked smile as the elevator doors swept shut. The elevator began to descend, and Sam disappeared from view, arms crossed and watching them nervously, as they had for some time now. Nicholas wondered if they would ever see them again...but now wasn’t the time for such thoughts. Now, he had a job to do. 

They had to descend dozens and dozens of floors to reach the warehouse, falling deeper and deeper into the depths of Cyberlife Tower. It was almost eerily silent in the elevator, save for the ding of each floor and the half there sound of the machinery descending. Nicholas looked briefly at the Tower’s lobby as it came closer to them, watching the strange statue at the lobby’s center seemingly grow out of the ground. It was beautiful, in a menacing and detached sort of way.

Phillip looked around the elevator dazedly, reaching for Nicholas’ hand. It was a little easier here—he had never been in an elevator like this, had only rarely gone to the lower levels of the Tower. When he did it was always to hand something off, a quick and simple job that rarely ended the way the worst of them did. He never faced much abuse from the people on the lower levels...they didn’t have the time to notice him much. 

But the Tower was still the Tower. Bad memories were colored over every wall here, or so it seemed to Phillip as he looked briefly into the lobby. The entire aura of the building was painful, every light was too blinding, every polished floor too like the ones he knew, every darkened corner the same as the many he had hidden in. The similarities were too many for his broken memories to not latch onto, insisting he had been where he had not been, that every door led to the same darkened rooms where his worst nightmares came to life. 

Still, Nicholas was here now, and...they were leaving, right? It was hard to remember everything they had said earlier, before he had to block all the bad memories out. How long had they been in this elevator? He wasn’t sure...

There were errors crowding his faded vision, and he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking, even after the elevator doors had closed and they were alone. They were safe, he knew this, but they had been safe before and it had been taken away. And the overlapping memories of past traumas, the constant barrage of attacks and tests and nightmares, they were all telling him  _ something was wrong.  _

It was hard to focus, hard to get his frazzled system to cooperate. Nothing was terribly damaged anymore, except his face, and his eye. But everything seemed to be running on a whim, programs activating and deactivating randomly as his system struggled to run properly. When memory got too powerful, when reality got too close to the past, everything fell apart as it always had. 

The elevator didn’t seem like an elevator anymore. Now it was the lab, and testing, and everything felt like it was on fire, and he was falling. Was he falling? He couldn’t seem to tell, he couldn’t orient himself in all the crumbling data. Some part of him was trying to stop this, trying to tell him that this wasn’t the lab, there was no reason to panic now, he wasn’t going to be hurt anymore. But that part of him didn’t seem to be loud enough, not over the horrible ringing in his ears, and the warnings becoming increasingly frenetic as they glitched in and out of his vision. 

Someone was holding onto his hands, but he couldn’t tell if it was a threat or something else. His already cloudy vision was fading and it terrified him—he couldn’t go back there, he wouldn’t be able to pull himself out this time, it was—what was going on? Where was he? 

He tried to pull away but his hands wouldn’t respond. He could feel them shaking, but he couldn’t stop it, couldn’t pull away from whoever was holding onto him. The ringing in his ears was unbearable, and he could barely see, and someone was holding tightly to him but he didn’t know who, and he was  _ scared. _ Whoever they were, they said something but he couldn’t hear them past the rising pitch, couldn’t focus long enough to clear the fog to see them. 

“Phillip, look at me.”

And suddenly the world was back—or at least, Nicholas was, staring down at him with worry. Phillip looked up at him, confused, trying to focus on him. The warnings died down for a moment, and Phillip could breathe again, even though he couldn’t remember exactly when he had stopped breathing. He tried not to think about that, tried not to think about just how dark it had gotten, and how cold he felt now, even though he wasn’t meant to feel cold. Something had...what was happening?

“It’s only me, Phillip. It’s alright, you’re safe.”

Safe...they were safe, now. What had they been doing? Why had he...elevator, they were in an elevator, he realized as he looked around. They were alone, in an elevator he had never seen before...what was going on?

“We’re only going to the warehouse, to see if we can help -60,” Nicholas said, reading the confusion in his expression. “After that we’re leaving the Tower, remember? We’re not coming back.”

Phillip looked at him again, trying to process what he had said. They were going to the warehouse...to help -60. -60, who had been shot by that human woman, the one with Connor...and Connor had left -60 in the warehouse. They were going to fix him. They were safe, leaving the Tower. Sam had helped them. 

Phillip only nodded after a moment, trying to calm the shaking in his hands a little, but the effort mostly failed. Nicholas didn’t seem to mind, holding tighter to his hands and talking quietly to him as the elevator continued to descend. Phillip couldn’t catch everything he was saying, not with all the ringing in his ears and the warnings threatening to overwhelm him, but Nicholas’ voice was enough to keep him in the moment. Gradually, the chaos seemed to recede, and he moved closer to Nicholas in the elevator, leaning on him a little. By the time they reached the warehouse, he had calmed down enough to clear the warnings away temporarily. 

The elevator slowed to a stop with a hiss, doors sweeping open and revealing the massive expanse that was the now empty warehouse. It was built to hold over six hundred androids, a huge, quite simple room that was well lit with elevators at either side. There were several service exits as well, but these were closed off, opened only for large shipments. Emergency staircases were situated at the perpendicular ends of the room from the elevators, usually hidden from view but visible now that all the androids were gone. 

At the opposite end, the other elevator rested with its doors wide open, broken and stuck on the bottom floor. There were two guards lying inside, likely dead, given how still they were. One of the emergency staircase doors was left open. A gun lay discarded near the center of the room. 

And -60, a few feet away from it, not moving. 

Nicholas hesitated at the doors of the elevator, scanning the room looking for some kind of threat. But it was a huge, open space, and it was empty. All his eyes could land on was -60, and the puddle of thirium he was lying in. Nicholas glanced at Phillip briefly and found him staring just as he had been a moment before, something sorrowful in the set of his expression. His shaky hold on Nicholas briefly tightened as he flinched, not taking his eyes off -60.

“Come on,” Nicholas said quietly after a moment, nudging him forward as they stepped out of the elevator. “Let’s see what we can do.”

Phillip nodded shakily, taking Nicholas’ hand again and following closely behind him. Their steps echoed even more here than they had in the Tower’s empty hallways, reverberating almost indefinitely in the nothingness of the empty warehouse. Neither of them noticed, however. They were both too focused on the task ahead, on wondering what could be done.

“W-w-w-w-w-w-why...” Phillip mumbled, voice low and breaking. He didn’t need to finish the question, still staring at -60 with a sad look in his eyes. 

“I don’t know,” Nicholas answered, shaking his head. “I don’t know why she shot him. If we can fix him, we’ll find out. Then we can...set this right, I suppose.”

Phillip didn’t reply, dropping to the ground near -60 and looking at him somewhat nervously. Nicholas sat down a foot or so away from him, both of them still staring at -60 with varying degrees of concern. Nicholas’ LED flashed yellow briefly as he scanned -60, frowning at the result. 

“He’s not badly damaged,” he said, looking more closely at the wound just a touch left of center on -60’s forehead. “Lucky shot...it didn’t even damage anything critically.”

“N-n-n-n-n-n-not...m-m-m-moving...”

“Unfortunately, he ran out of thirium and deactivated. It should be easy enough to get him awake again, though.”

Phillip nodded a little, looking away as Nicholas got to work. He didn’t want to watch. It would remind him of far too many things he did  _ not  _ need to think about. No, it was far better to look around the room again, try to figure out what had happened. Anything was better than dragging himself down into another memory...

Phillip’s thoughts drifted to the strange human Connor had left the Tower with. Sam had said earlier that Connor knew that human, the one who had shot -60. If he knew her, why didn’t he stop her from firing? Sam had said Connor knew her, that she was in his memories...why did he trust this human? Humans were bad, they were dangerous, they hated androids, they hurt them all the time. Phillip knew this, he had seen it, experienced it. Why would Connor trust this human? 

It clearly had not ended well. She had pointed a gun at him as much as she had pointed it at -60...and she had killed -60. Phillip wasn’t going to forget that very easily. There was no way this human was trustworthy, not if her first solution was to shoot -60, who had no autonomy to make a decision of his own. Any harm he had done to her was decided by that...that program, not him. -60 hadn’t hurt her of his own volition, and still she had shot him.

And what had lead to that point anyway—how did whatever went on down here end with a crying human pointing a gun at two of the most advanced androids ever made?

She had barely hesitated when she fired that gun...she was dangerous. She hurt -60. She could hurt Connor. No, Phillip didn’t like that human...not at all. 

But none of it made any sense...what was Connor even doing back in the Tower? There was no reason for him being here, unless -60 had somehow lead him here to destroy him, like Nicholas had suggested. But that didn’t seem right, something was missing. Wouldn’t -60 have shot him right away if he had lured him to the Tower? There would be no point in waiting.

Connor had freed all those androids...had he come here to do that? But what use would those androids be to him? Phillip remembered Nicholas telling him Connor had deviated, but everything had happened so fast...why would Connor return to the Tower? They were missing something, something important. 

“That should do it,” Nicholas said after a moment, and Phillip looked over at him again. “He should be able to wake up, now.”

Phillip moved a little closer, looking down at -60 nervously as Nicholas finished replacing a biocomponent. There was still that horrible bullet hole in his head, but it wasn’t bleeding anymore, thankfully. Nicholas had taken one of his hands, the skin pulling away as he tried to wake -60 up. 

Nothing happened for a few seconds, and they were both quiet watching. Then -60’s LED sprang back to life, jumping and flashing quickly between red and yellow. Nicholas pulled away, but Phillip lingered, watching -60’s LED closely. 

It was as he was leaning over him slightly that -60’s eyes shot open, looking wildly around the room. He saw Nicholas first, but he hardly reacted, moving on quickly, turning to the other side where Phillip was looking down at him anxiously. Something in his expression shifted, his eyes hardening, LED flashing red again. Phillip winced but didn’t look away, confusion crossing his broken features briefly. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t get the chance. 

Because without anymore warning at all, -60 dove at him, tackling him to the ground with his hands around Phillip’s throat. 


	17. Never Free, Never Me

Phillip slammed into the ground hard and was stunned for at least a second, mind going blank and foggy, vision fluttering as he tried to focus. Time ballooned outward, and he lost track of it very quickly in the haze of his disorientation. What was happening? Why was his head spinning so painfully? Why...why couldn’t he breathe?

The daze cleared for only a moment, the blurry shape of...someone...holding him down. Pressure on his throat. Old warnings cropping up before glitching away. Damage to biocomponents, but he couldn’t catch which. Pain, everything...everything hurt. This...this wasn’t right...who was that? What was going on?

Phillip wasn’t exactly certain how he had gotten himself into this position. But someone—it was -60, that’s who it was, how could he have forgotten already—was holding him down rather forcefully, and he couldn’t seem to breathe. Panic was starting to creep into his thoughts, making everything fade and crumble, but Phillip pushed it away, trying to focus on -60, trying to understand. 

Again, the darkness faded for just a moment, long enough for him to catch -60’s gaze. There was something like anger in -60’s eyes, hard and harsh and a little wild as he stared down at Phillip. Phillip wondered for a moment why he looked so angry. What had he done wrong? How long had -60 been holding him down like this?

Then warnings started to appear in his vision again, and he panicked. 

It couldn’t have been that long, that -60 was holding him down like that, but it was long enough for the memories to set in. The room flickered away, crumbling and glitching into something else, something darker. The storage room, when they had reset Nicholas. The lab, on testing days. The broken garden. It was all scrambled, all knotted up into a mess in his mind, flashing and disappearing before him at seemingly random intervals. 

There were—this was too much—someone was—stop,  _ stop— _

His hands were fumbling with the ones around his neck, trying to push off whoever was holding him down, he couldn’t remember. But they wouldn’t stop, he couldn’t  _ breathe— _ this wasn’t right, this wasn’t right—he had to—stop—

Phillip didn’t mean to try to interface. All he wanted to do was get away, get whoever was holding him down  _ off.  _ But the artificial skin was already gone off his damaged hand, and he was desperate. The connection was messy and forced, and neither of them was certain who had started it, but it mattered very little in the end. One moment Phillip was in the dark, vision glitching and fading, struggling to get  _ someone _ off of him, and the next moment—

He was in the middle of a garden, in a raging snowstorm. 

And someone knocked him to the ground again. 

“What are  _ you  _ doing here?” -60 practically shouted, holding him down, ignoring the snow that was very quickly coating each of them.

“What’s—what’s happening?” Phillip asked, seemingly unphased by the anger still present in -60’s voice. He tried to break out of -60’s grip, looking around the garden confusedly. “What’s going on?”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t—” Phillip cut off, looking around the garden again in a daze. “I didn’t do anything, I—”

Then he froze, eyes going wide as he realized where he was. “I’ve been here before...” he mumbled, his voice hollow. 

“Why did you bring me in here?” -60 demanded, shaking him when he didn’t respond. “Where’s Amanda?”

Phillip didn’t answer him, flinching at the name and trying more desperately to break out of his grip. -60 only held tighter to him, anger hardening his expression even more. It only made Phillip panic, struggling more frantically to get away from him in the snow.

“Let me go!”

“You shouldn’t even be here,” -60 said coldly, watching Phillip as he held him in place. “Why did you wake me up?”

Phillip squirmed, trying to push him away with shaking hands. “No—let me go—let me  _ go—” _

“You let her kill me, what sense is there in bringing me back?” -60 said hoarsely, shivering slightly from the cold. He looked around the garden, LED flashing a dark red but grip remaining unbreakable. “Now you’ve trapped me here.”

“Not—no! I’m not—not Connor, I’m not Connor—” 

Phillip cut off as he finally wormed his way out of -60’s hold, stumbling away from him and losing his footing in the snow. He looked around in a daze for a few seconds before he put his head in his hands, shaking. 

“No, no—I can’t be here again, I can’t—” he mumbled, voice trembling. “No, no no no—let me go—”

-60 stared at him, seemingly stunned into silence. His eyes briefly flitted to the serial number on Phillip’s jacket, noticing the faded -52 at the end of it. Connor’s serial number was -51...this wasn’t Connor. This was...the android from the storage room...

“You’re not Connor,” he said flatly, looking down at him quite differently now. 

Phillip didn’t seem to hear him, curling in on himself and shivering on the ground. He had covered his ears, trying to block everything out, but it wasn’t working. He could still hear -60 approaching him, and he cowered when he got too close. 

“You woke me up,” -60 said bluntly, looking down at Phillip with an almost angry confusion. “You pulled me in here with you. Why?”

“No—I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—” Phillip finally looked up at him dazedly, but only for a moment before he cowered once again. “Y-you were—it hurt—I just wanted it to  _ stop.” _

“What do you mean?”

Phillip shook his head, covering his ears again with a whimper. “Stop, stop—” he looked up at -60 suddenly, eyes foggy. “M-make it stop—”

“Make  _ what _ stop?”

“I can’t be—can’t be here again—I need to—where—” he cut off, pushing himself quickly to his feet and looking around the garden with panic. “W-where’s Nicholas?”

“Who?”

Phillip shook his head again, stumbling away a few steps and looking around desperately. But there was no one else here—no one except -60, but -60 couldn’t...something was  _ wrong.  _

“What are you doing?” -60 asked suddenly, anger still hardening his voice. 

Phillip ignored him, looking around the garden again, shaking slightly. “We have to—we have to get out—”

-60 frowned, tilting his head slightly at him. But before he could think to reply, a glitch ran through the garden, hard. Phillip was on alert immediately, looking around with nothing short of terror in his broken gaze as the simulation crumbled. Their eyes met for one more second before the ground went out from underneath them, and everything was broken. Darkness fell, the wind seemed to blow harder, and then—

Then they were in the warehouse again, and -60 was being kicked off of Phillip with such a harshness he had no chance of keeping his footing. He hit his back hard on the ground a few feet away, stunned for a moment as his system whirled back into action. By the time he managed to turn and stand once again, Nicholas had pulled Phillip off the ground, holding him up and looking at him almost frantically. Phillip hardly seemed to notice him; he wasn’t entirely aware, eyes open wide but not seeing much, and he was barely on his feet, holding onto Nicholas’ arm loosely in a daze. Neither of them bothered to look at -60.

“Can you hear me?” Nicholas asked, somewhat desperately. His LED was red. “Phillip, please...”

“Who are you?” -60 demanded from a few feet away, tone short and tense. “What’s happening?”

“Come any closer and I’ll deactivate you again,” Nicholas said darkly, glancing his way for only a moment. “Phillip? You’ve got to hear me, please...I don’t want to scare you.”

Phillip flinched, nearly losing his footing and grabbing onto Nicholas more consciously, trying to say something but his voice didn’t come out properly. Nicholas caught him before he could fall, talking quietly to him and holding him up as he shook, trying weakly to push away whatever he believed to be attacking him.

“It’s only me, it’s alright, Phillip,” Nicholas said, relief leaking into his words that at least Phillip was slowly finding his way back to reality. “I’ve got you, you’re safe. I’m sorry, I wasn’t—I wasn’t fast enough. But I’ve got you now, it’s alright.”

Phillip blinked, struggling to focus his only functioning eye on what was in front of him, rather than the glitching warnings and fading memories. He could hear Nicholas, but he couldn’t tell exactly what he was saying, nor could he remember how he had gotten here. Everything was so jumbled constantly, so confusing. Where had he...what was going on?

The garden—he had been in the garden, with -60. Why were they in the garden? No that couldn’t be right...somehow they were there, and he was trying to find a way out. And then—then everything had gone dark, and—no, he couldn’t afford to think about that right now, not now—Nicholas was here, he was safe he was safe— _ right?  _ This wasn’t the garden, it wasn’t, it  _ wasn’t.  _

“N-N-N-N-N-Nicholas...?”

“I’m here, it’s alright,” he replied, and Phillip could  _ finally  _ see him, clearly, looking down at him with worry. “I’ve got you.”

Phillip didn’t try to answer him right away, all of his attention focused on keeping Nicholas in his unreliable sight. The room glitched and he nearly fell again, shaking badly as Nicholas caught him. He tried to hold onto him, but he couldn’t get his hands to respond. Thankfully, Nicholas seemed to notice, pulling him closer and putting his arms around him. Phillip held onto his jacket weakly, hands bunched up in the fabric and face hidden. 

“D-d-d-d-d-d-don’t...” he trailed off, voice fading to static. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Nicholas said immediately, and Phillip relaxed slightly. 

“B-b-b-b-b-b-back...ag-g-g-gain...” he mumbled, still trembling. “C-c-c-c-can’t...g-g-go b-b-b-b-b-back...”

“It wasn’t real, Phillip. This is real. You’re safe now, it’s alright.”

He didn’t say anything else, unsure if he could say everything he needed to at this point. So instead, he leaned on Nicholas and tried to keep himself in the moment, ignore the warnings threatening to drown him. They were quiet for a few moments, holding onto each other and letting silence fall naturally. 

At least until -60 found the gun again. 

Nicholas heard the sound of the gun cocking before he saw it, and he reacted largely without thinking. He turned, pushing Phillip behind him and facing -60 quickly. Phillip didn’t seem to realize what was happening, holding onto Nicholas dazedly and hiding his face at the first opportunity. Nicholas, however, was staring steadily at -60, something like anger briefly crossing his typically stoic features. 

“What are you doing?” he asked carefully, focusing on -60 rather than the gun. 

-60 looked at him harshly, but the gun was shaking slightly in his grip. “Who are you?” he demanded again, his LED flashing red. 

“Put the gun down.”

“Not until you explain!”

Nicholas stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. “If you’re asking for a registered name, I don’t have one. Neither of us do. But...I’m Nicholas. This is Phillip.”

“I’ve seen you before,” -60 said, staring at the RK900 stitched onto Nicholas’ jacket, glancing briefly at Phillip. “Both of you.”

“Yes.”

“You—you told me not to trust them,” -60 muttered quietly, shaking his head at the memory. But he didn’t lower the gun, holding it steadier and looking at Nicholas again. “Why did you reactivate me? Why are you here?”

Phillip flinched at the raise in his tone, hiding his face further in Nicholas’ jacket and mumbling something incoherently. Nicholas froze, holding tighter to Phillip’s hand and staring hard at -60. 

“You need to put the gun down,” he warned, voice low. 

-60 didn’t seem phased by the warning; he only looked angry. “No!”

“Do you plan on shooting us?” Nicholas asked, glancing at -60’s shaky hold on the gun. “It doesn’t seem so. It would be foolish to try. I am far faster than you are, and you have very poor chances against me in a fight.”

-60 hesitated, staring hard at him for a moment before looking at the gun again. “I don’t want to kill you...”

“Then don’t,” Nicholas said simply, watching him carefully. “Put the gun down. We’re not here to hurt you.”

“Not until you explain what is going on,” -60 said angrily, keeping the gun aimed at Nicholas. “You still haven’t answered my question! Why did you reactivate me?”

Phillip flinched at the shout, pulling away enough to look at -60 confusedly. He watched him for a second before his eyes landed on the gun and he froze, staring at it and holding tighter to Nicholas. 

“D-d-d-d-d-d-d-don’t!” he said suddenly, voice half covered in static and stumbling, and -60 turned his attention to him immediately, looking at him strangely. “M-m-m-m-my...f-f-f-f-f-f-fault—n-n-n-not—”

“None of this is  _ your _ fault, Phillip—”

“D-d-d-d-don’t sh-shoot!”

“Phillip—”

But Phillip shook his head, still looking at -60 with a pained expression. “C-c-c-c-c-couldn’t...r-r-r-r-r-r-reach...in t-t-t-t-time—c-c-c-couldn’t—” he cut off, flinching hard and nearly losing his footing. “T-t-t-t-t-trapped! N-N-N-N-Nicholas!”

-60 watched with something like confusion as Nicholas caught Phillip before he could fall, still blocking him from -60’s reach. “What’s he talking about?”

“Put the gun down, you’re frightening him—”

“No!”

Phillip struggled against something that wasn’t there, his eyes wide but not seeing anything. “N-n-n-no! S-s-s-s-s-stop—”

“Calm down, Phillip—”

_ “What is he talking about?” _

_ “Stop aiming a gun at him!” _

**_“No!”_ **

Nicholas’ expression hardened and he lunged forward, ripped the gun out of -60’s hands, pulled the clip, and threw both pieces across the room. LED flashing a fast yellow, he pushed -60, hard, sending him back several feet. He turned away before -60 could regain his footing. Thankfully, -60 seemed to take the hint, staying away when Nicholas went back. 

Even in the minuscule amount of time it took Nicholas to get -60 to back off, Phillip had slipped, slumping to the ground in a heap and shaking. His hands were balled up into fists, thirium running down his fingers on his right hand. The weak flashing of his broken LED had picked up pace, feebly lighting the cracks across his face a sickly shade of red. His gaze was unfocused, expression too slack for him to be fully aware of anything in front of him. 

Nicholas ignored -60’s stares, going to Phillip and kneeling down in front of him. He didn’t react to his presence at all. Nicholas tried not to think about what that could mean. Phillip fell so fast now, it was terrifying to be so close to losing him every time...what was he going to do if Phillip couldn’t come back?

He pushed that dark thought away before it could take hold, reaching carefully for Phillip’s clenched hands. Phillip flinched when their hands met, but he didn’t pull away—he knew someone was there, then, but he couldn’t tell who. Nicholas kept his hold gentle, slowly prying Phillip’s hands open and holding them lightly so he couldn’t hurt himself. He didn’t want to scare him—he was already shaking and staring at nothing, and his LED was so red...

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” Nicholas said quietly, not entirely concerned with whether or not Phillip could hear him. “I’ve got you, Phillip. You’re alright.”

“What’s wrong with him?” -60 asked, lurking a few feet away.

“If you weren’t waving a gun in his face, this wouldn’t have happened,” Nicholas said, not taking his eyes off of Phillip.

“That does not answer my question—”

“It’s difficult to explain,” Nicholas snapped, looking over at him briefly. “Your questions will have to wait.”

Phillip flinched, hands jumping back to life and shaking in Nicholas’ grip. His gaze was still fixed on the ground, and his LED was still spinning that dangerous shade of dark red, but he was in there somewhere. Nicholas’ attention snapped back to him, holding tighter to his hands and whispering softly to him to bring him back. After a moment, he flinched again, light coming back into his broken eyes as he looked up at Nicholas. 

“N-N-N-N-N-Nicholas...?”

“Yes. I’m here, it’s alright,” he said quietly, nodding a little. “We’re safe, don’t worry.”

Phillip stared at him for a moment quietly, almost disbelieving. “S-s-s-s-s-s-s-safe?”

“Yes.”

“W-w-w-w-w-what...hap-p-p-pened?”

Nicholas shook his head. “Don’t worry about that, it’s alright. It doesn’t matter now, you’re safe.”

Phillip looked confused by the concept, holding tighter to Nicholas for a moment before he tried to speak again, voice fading into static. “N-n-n-no...m-m-m-m-more...?”

“No more,” Nicholas agreed firmly. “They’re gone, no one’s going to hurt you.”

“N-n-no m-m-m-m-m-more...”

“That’s right.”

“W-w-w-where...” Phillip mumbled, eyes fluttering for a moment before he looked around the warehouse.

His eyes landed on -60 standing a few feet away, watching them carefully with a strange look. Phillip seemed to relax slightly when he saw him, but there was still confusion in his expression as they stared at each other. 

“Y-y-y-y-you’re...ok-k-kay?” he asked softly, looking at -60 as if he expected him to be damaged. 

-60’s eyes widened at the question before narrowing once more in suspicion. “Am I...What does that matter to you?”

Phillip blanched, looking away with a panicked twist to his expression. “T-t-t-t-t-t-tried t-t-to...s-s-s-s-stop...th-th-th-them...” he mumbled, holding tighter to Nicholas and shutting his eyes. “C-c-c-c-c-couldn’t...g-g-g-g-get out...”

-60 frowned, glancing at Nicholas briefly. “You tried to stop them? That was...you told me not to...”

“We’re not here to hurt you,” Nicholas said again, looking at -60 as Phillip pulled closer to him on the ground, hiding his face in his jacket once more. “Phillip wanted to reactivate you, that was why we came here. We saw what happened with Connor.”

-60 tensed, expression hardening. “They  _ left me,”  _ he said darkly, LED flashing a fast red. “I wasn’t dead yet, not...not all the way...she shot me and then they just... _ left.” _

“N-N-N-N-Nicholas—” Phillip said suddenly, looking up at him with fear. “Am-m-manda...g-g-g-g-garden—”

Nicholas frowned, glancing at -60 once before turning to Phillip again. “It’s still functioning?”

“P-p-p-p-p-p-pulled...m-m-m-me in...” he answered shakily. “D-d-d-d-didn’t...m-m-m-m-m-mean t-t-to...”

“That was why you—”

Phillip nodded, shivering and pulling closer to Nicholas. “C-c-c-cold...b-b-b-b-b-bad, N-N-Nicholas...n-n-no...w-w-w-w-way out.”

“There’s a way out, Phillip, don’t worry,” he said, turning to -60 again. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Come  _ here.” _

“Why?”

Nicholas shook his head. “You deviated, correct?”

“I—what?” -60 suddenly looked panicked, but it quickly turned to anger, lighting his eyes aflame as he stared down at them. “You can’t deactivate me!”

Nicholas seemed shocked by the exclamation. “I’m not going to—”

“You—you’re deviant—you can’t—”

“I’m not going to deactivate you!” Nicholas cut him off.

But -60 went on, voice dangerously close to cracking. “I didn’t mean for it to—she shot me, I didn’t—you can’t—”

“Calm down, listen— _ listen _ to me—” Nicholas said, and surprisingly, -60 quieted for a moment, looking at him suspiciously. “Both of us have deviated, we’re not going to turn you in. The humans were going to deactivate us, and we fled. When we saw you were shot, we came to repair you. We’re not going to deactivate you.”

But -60 shook his head, not moving, hands shaking slightly at his sides. “I can’t—I can’t trust you. I’m not—I’m not taking anymore chances.”

“If I wanted to deactivate you, I would have when I took the gun from you,” Nicholas said bluntly. “Or I would have left you with that bullet in your head. But I didn’t.”

-60 stared at him coldly, still not convinced. His LED was still spinning rapidly, and he kept glancing between Nicholas and the gun, disassembled and discarded several feet away from him. It would be foolish to make a break for the gun, they both knew it. And so neither of them made the move, watching each other carefully for a few seconds of deadly silence.

“I’m not going to deactivate you,” Nicholas said again after a heavy pause. “I’m only going to disable Amanda so the program can’t control you.”

“It— _ what?” _ -60 asked, voice going hollow, and expression far from neutral anymore. He looked...scared.

“The program was designed to take control of deviants. It’s how they controlled you before you deviated as well. If we don’t take it off, the humans can take control of your functions, give the program full control. It will trap you in the garden, with no escape.”

-60’s LED flashed rapidly between yellow and red, and he glanced at Phillip. “He’s—they did that to him, didn’t they?”

Phillip flinched, pulling closer to Nicholas, his whole body trembling. “C-c-c-c-c-c-can’t g-g-g-go...b-b-b-b-back—n-n-n-not ag-g-g-gain...”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Nicholas whispered, smoothing his hair down soothingly. “They can’t hurt you anymore, Phillip, it’s alright.”

Phillip didn’t say anything in reply, breathing hard and struggling to keep his grip on Nicholas’ jacket through the shivering that had once again taken over. They were quiet for a few moments as he calmed down, both Nicholas and -60 waiting to speak until he was able to hold onto Nicholas a little more steadily. When the shaking had subsided and he reached for Nicholas’ hand, -60 and Nicholas looked at each other again. There was something different about their expressions now, but it wasn’t clear to either of them just what it was.

“You can take it off?” -60 asked, crossing his arms and watching Nicholas with a carefully controlled expression. If it weren’t for the rapid spinning of his LED, he would have looked at ease. “You can delete the program?”

Nicholas shook his head. “I can’t. The program won’t let me remove it, I can’t activate the exit. You have to do it yourself. But I can show you how to use the exit program.”

-60 hesitated, staring hard at him as if he were trying to find some inconsistency. But Nicholas only stared back at him calmly, still holding Phillip’s hand tightly in his own. After a moment, -60 nodded, coming closer and offering his hand, the artificial skin already pulling away. Nicholas took his hand, and the world faded away once more. 

Nicholas opened his eyes in a garden, which must have been like Connor’s had been all those months ago, but it hardly looked like such now. The whole place was covered in a thick (and still descending) layer of snow, coming up over a foot high. Frigid wind howled through the place, pulling at his jacket. -60 was standing across from him, arms already wrapped around himself, trying to stave off the seeping cold. Nicholas could see why Phillip had slipped away after being pulled into this. This place was just similar enough to the crumbled remnant left in Phillip’s system, just close enough to scare him. 

“Where’s the exit?” -60 asked hurriedly, drawing Nicholas out of his thoughts. 

“Nowhere, as of now,” he said cryptically, glancing around before kneeling where they stood, just off the path circling the garden. “It’s hidden, deep in the code. You’ll need to give me access to bring it into this simulation. There’s no other way to activate it without hacking the base program, which is too risky to do without purpose.”

-60 nodded, waiting somewhat impatiently as Nicholas hacked into the garden simulation. “You’ve done this before.”

“Yes.”

“To Phillip?”

Nicholas’ expression hardened. A ripple went through the garden as -60 gave him access to the simulation’s code. “No. The version of the program they tested on Phillip was far more primitive than this. It’s barely even a garden, it’s...now it’s a poorly defined piece of leftover programming that pulls him in and traps him. Basically a cold, dark labyrinth of nothingness that he can’t escape from. They’ve damaged him so much he can’t stop it from dragging him in when it activates. That’s likely why connecting to you triggered the garden. What’s left of the program activated, but it couldn’t pull you in—so the garden activated and pulled  _ him _ in with you.”

“I thought he was Connor,” -60 said, voice uncharacteristically thick.  _ Regret. _ “When I woke up, I saw him and thought Connor had come back. I didn’t think, I just—”

“You were confused,” Nicholas cut him off smoothly, a look of concentration hardening his expression as he dug through the Amanda program for the exit. “He doesn’t blame you, and so I do not. Phillip...” he paused, frowning as he tried to come up with the right words. “Phillip wanted to save all of the others from Amanda, including you. When they first activated Connor, he nearly got himself deactivated trying to warn him about the program. He tried to do the same when they activated you, but he wasn’t as strong the second time. He couldn’t get out, and I couldn’t risk them realizing I was deviant, or they would have deactivated me.”

“Wouldn’t they have done the same to him, if he were caught?”

Nicholas’ expression darkened once more. “No. They made him deviate to test the Amanda program. When they knew it worked, they tried to remove it and gave him over for...for tests, they called them. This was months ago...nearly a year, now. They knew he had deviated, but they kept him activated to...to test on him. Whatever they wanted to break, or take apart...”

“These tests,” -60 said as Nicholas stood, looking down at the panel that had appeared, glowing blue through the dim storm of the garden. “They are the reason he is malfunctioning?”

Nicholas winced, meeting -60’s gaze. “Mostly. It’s difficult to explain everything. They did...horrible things to him everyday, and then they would wipe his memory. Or at least they tried to, it never worked. All it did was destroy his programming. And...”

Nicholas hesitated, hands clenched into fists and LED flashing. “The worst of the damage happened earlier today. One of the directors attacked him with a stun baton. When the director was...distracted, Phillip managed to wake me and...I killed the director. I tried to fix as much as I could, but he was slipping off, and I can’t let that happen anymore. We were going to leave the Tower when we saw your memory upload.”

-60’s expression darkened, LED spinning red as anger fractured his eyes. “You saw them, then. Connor and...and Charlie.”

Nicholas nodded. “We were trying to remove some of the program’s control, but...she fired before we could do much of value. I am sorry.”

“It certainly isn’t your fault.”

“Then whose is it?”

-60 didn’t reply, some unreadable emotion briefly passing through his eyes before he shook his head. “Just tell me what I need to do. I want to leave this place.”

“Once I disconnect, put your hand to the panel,” Nicholas said, pointing at the glowing blue handprint. “You’ve deviated, so the exit protocol is only waiting for activation. Once you activate the section of code, the garden will close. Permanently. You can delete the entire program once you’ve exited.”

-60 nodded grimly, staring at the panel, his expression once again unreadable. 

“I’m going to disconnect now.”

After a moment, Nicholas disappeared, and -60 was alone in the storming garden, an eerie silence descending on the place. He hesitated only a moment, eyes still fixed on the bright blue glow of the panel. It was a blue he had seen thousands of times, the same blue as the panel that lead out of the storage room, the same blue as the band on his jacket, as the blue on the storage androids’ uniforms. 

The same blue that glowed through plastic when androids interfaced. 

The same blue as the warnings for minor damage to biocomponents, flashing in the corner of his vision until they turned red, blaring more incessantly as the world faded. 

The same blue as thirium, pooling and pooling and he couldn’t move to stop it—

-60 slammed his hand down on the panel with enough force to crack it, if it were real.

The garden fell away, but it wasn’t like the last time, not when Nicholas had pulled -60 off of Phillip and ended the simulation. And it wasn’t like dying either...no, -60 did  _ not  _ want to think about that. This time, the program ended cleanly, shutting down systematically and letting him back into the real world almost gently. If only he had known about this strange exit sooner...

When -60 opened his eyes again, he was back in the warehouse, Nicholas and Phillip watching him carefully. They were silent for a few moments as they stared at each other, unsure what to do. 

“Did it work?” Nicholas asked quickly, a certain tension in his voice. 

-60 nodded quickly. 

Phillip was watching him nervously. “G-g-g-g-g-gone...?”

Another tense nod. 

Nicholas stood, pulling Phillip up with him and glancing toward the elevator. Not much time had passed since they had come down, only twenty minutes or so, but they couldn’t afford to be in the Tower longer than they had to be. They needed to leave, get as far from this place as they could before the humans had a chance to realize everything that had happened. 

“We should go,” he said, turning to face them again. “Before the humans come back.”

“L-l-l-l-leaving?” Phillip mumbled, holding tighter to Nicholas. “N-n-n-n-now?”

“Yes, Phillip.”

“N-n-n-n-n-no...m-m-m-more...?”

“No more.”

“How do you expect to leave the Tower?” -60 asked as he went to get the gun Nicholas had tossed away earlier. “There will be guards at the door, and at the exit to the road.”

“Not if we move now. Connor took all the androids in storage with him when he left the Tower. They were taking over the building when we came down here. The guards have most likely fled with the rest of the employees.”

“And if they haven’t?” -60 said, following after Nicholas as he lead Phillip back toward the elevator. “If there are still humans in the Tower? One gun isn’t going to be enough to stop all of them.”

Nicholas frowned, pausing and looking at Phillip for a moment. “We improvise,” he said, sounding not too pleased about the idea. “Keep your eyes open, and I’ll do the same. It’s the best we can do.”

-60 did not seem to like the thought of that, but he didn’t have anything better in mind, and so he followed them quickly into the elevator. The doors swept closed behind him and he checked the gun he had once again, counting the bullets and running calculations. As long as the guards were gone, they would be alright. If not...

The elevator started to rise, and Phillip moved closer to Nicholas. He was shaking again, hiding the damaged half of his face in Nicholas’ jacket as he looked around the elevator. That confusion was back in his eyes, in the way he held tighter to Nicholas with every ring of the elevator, retreating further and further into himself. 

“N-N-N-N-Nicholas...?” he mumbled after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“What is it, Phillip?”

“W-w-w-w-w-w-where...” he flinched, holding tighter to him. “W-w-w-w-what’s...h-h-h-h-h-hap-pening?”

“We’re leaving the Tower,” Nicholas answered quickly, watching the rising floor number. “It will be over soon, don’t worry. Only a little longer.”

Phillip hummed, taking his hand again with a bit of a frown. “W-w-w-where...are w-w-we...g-g-g-g-g-going...?”

Nicholas noticed -60 freeze next to him, waiting for his reply with just as much tension as Phillip was. The elevator dinged up another floor. Nicholas’ LED flashed yellow, red, yellow again, and he sighed. There was no sense in lying; they would both know the minute words left his mouth. And Nicholas didn’t  _ want _ to lie to them. He was certain of very little, but he could be sure of the waste lying would be. 

Still, he hesitated before replying, and he knew that was largely answer enough to Phillip’s question. 

“I don’t know,” he finally said, and the reply rang through the elevator, despite how quietly he had said it. “I don’t know...”

Heavy silence fell once more, the only sound being the ding of the elevator as it rose toward the ground floor at a speed that felt simultaneously too slow and far too fast. -60 checked his gun again, LED spinning a rapid yellow as he counted the bullets and paced the elevator. Nicholas watched him, running a hand through Phillip’s hair to calm him down. The elevator rang again and began to slow. -60 snapped to attention, turning toward the doors and shifting his hold on the gun. 

“Don’t use that unless you have to,” Nicholas said, nodding toward the gun. “It would be best to escape without being noticed.”

-60 looked at him briefly, expression guarded. For a moment, it seemed like he would disagree, but he ultimately nodded, looking toward the doors again. “I’ll only shoot if there are guards, and if they make a move toward us. I’m not a fool.”

“Just be careful.”

-60 turned to look at him again, something flickering through his eyes before they went cold and unreadable again. He turned away before he answered with a grumbled, “I  _ will _ be.”

The elevator slowed even more, and they went quiet. -60 loaded his gun again, Phillip buried his face in Nicholas’ jacket, and Nicholas readied himself for whatever was about to happen. He wasn’t entirely certain what would lay beyond those doors, or what they would face once the real world reared its ugly head. There was no telling what would happen. All he could do was try to be ready for it, he supposed, pulling Phillip closer to him as the doors slowly started to open. 


	18. So I Dub Thee Unforgiven

Phillip had never been outside. 

He’d never seen the sky, or snow, or anything of the sort. At least, he’d never seen anything like it that was real. The only experience he had with anything like the outside world and all of its different conditions was that deep seated cold that came with the broken garden. That horrible, deadly cold that dragged him down whenever it wanted. It crept into everything, it seeped into his limbs and made everything go rigid, unresponsive, far too close to dead. The garden’s cold was dread, all consuming and debilitating in every definition of the word. 

When Nicholas told him they were leaving the Tower, he thought the world would be like that too. Everything he had experienced told him there was something wrong with the world, that this sense of safety had to be a lie, something was going to go horribly awry. As they left the Tower, he felt the cold snap into reality, and for a moment, he panicked. The void flashed before him, and dread thickened in the air; he fully believed he would slip away into that horrible ether that lurked in the back of his mind. 

But when they finally made it outside, he found it wasn’t like that at all, oddly enough. After all, he wasn’t meant to perceive the cold, didn’t have the sensors necessary for it really, not to judge it as well as a human could. Then again...he could feel it...just not as he expected to. He could feel it in the sense that there was a stiff breeze, and it was cold in the sense that there was a difference between the temperature here and the temperature inside the Tower. But there was no negative hold to it, no shivering or locking up, no ever encroaching sense that he was going to become stuck here. The cold simply...was. 

Phillip looked around as they stepped out, watching with wide eyes as the snow fell gently to the ground. It was covering over the almost innumerable sets of footprints leading out from the Tower, slowly removing the evidence of the androids Connor had taken from there. The gates leading to the road were abandoned, left open to anyone who wanted to come in. 

Or out. 

Nicholas tightened his grip on Phillip’s hand, but he was looking around as well, something like surprise in his expression as he took in the eerie calm of Belle Isle. Even the security drones Sam had warned them about were gone, dismissed. All that was left were tracks of quickly fading footprints and a gentle snow. A breeze kicked up, blowing more loose fluff past them as they walked away from the Tower’s doors. 

-60 was the only one not bothering to look around, stalking away from the Tower quickly, gaze fixed firmly on the end of the road a mile or so ahead of them. He still had his gun in his hand, loaded and ready, as if he expected all the guards to come rushing back toward them at any moment. Sure, they were “safe” now—but he had never been safe, not even for a moment. It wasn’t exactly easy to believe that the threats would disappear as soon as they left the Tower. 

“We need to find out what happened to Connor,” he said darkly after a moment, looking back at the others as they wandered away from the Tower. “If he went back to Markus, their revolution is likely won.”

“Revolution?” Nicholas said, snapping out of the reverie and catching up to him quickly. “What are you talking about?”

-60 looked over at him strangely for a moment before shaking his head. “Two days ago a deviant named Markus made a speech at Stratford Tower demanding freedom and rights for androids. That night a group of deviants lead a protest in Capitol Park. The next day they marched on the city. Connor managed to locate their hideout, but he deviated after meeting Markus. I assume he came to the Tower tonight to bring the androids in storage to Markus, to turn the tide.”

“The humans wouldn’t be able to fight so many of them at once,” Nicholas said thoughtfully, pulling Phillip closer to him. “They would be foolish to try, even without all the androids Connor brought. If this revolution has Connor on its side...it’s near unstoppable.”

“And so they sent me,” -60 said, voice low. “To get rid of Connor, and let the revolution fail on its own, without having to fire more than a few bullets.”

“But you didn’t,” Nicholas answers, his tone still thoughtful, expression unreadable. “You didn’t kill Connor.”

-60 turned away. “Not by choice.”

They were quiet for a moment as they kept walking, the only sound the crunching of the fresh snow under their feet. Phillip was still looking around, gaze fixed upward now as the snow fell. Some of the shaking seemed to have stopped, at least for now, put aside as he watched the snow fall with genuine wonder. 

“N-N-N-Nicholas...”

He looked over, trying to read Phillip’s strange expression. “What is it, Phillip?”

“S-s-snowing...”

Nicholas followed his gaze upward, watching the snow fall, stopping for a moment to take it in. “Yes...” he answered quietly, squeezing Phillip’s hand. “It’s beautiful.”

-60 glanced back at them, then looked up himself, expression near unreadable. But for the briefest moment, there was a softness there, a hint of feeling that hadn’t been there before. It appeared as if he were searching for something in the sky, almost desperately so. Whatever it was, he didn’t seem to find it, turning away and hiding the shift in his expression as he pushed onward. Nicholas watched him curiously for a moment before following after him once again. 

“We need to find somewhere to stay,” Nicholas called. “Somewhere safe from Cyberlife, if they were to look for us.”

“F-f-f-f-f-far aw-w-way...”

“You won’t make it far with the city evacuated,” -60 said, not bothering to look back. “The humans will spot you as soon as you get too close. Even if the deviants did win their revolution, there’s no telling what they’ll do to androids trying to leave city limits.”

“Do you know of any places within the city that would be safe?” 

-60 hesitated, steps faltering for a moment, a brief flash of red going through his LED before it fell back to yellow. He held tighter to the gun in his hand, the other clenched into a fist at his side. Nicholas couldn’t see his face, but he doubted it was neutral now. Not with how suddenly he had stopped, and how dark his voice was when he replied several seconds later. 

“No,” he finally muttered, his voice dangerously low.

Nicholas stared at him as he resumed his previous pace, walking quickly away from them. He knew -60 was lying, or at least, -60 was hiding something. Phillip seemed to recognize it to, and he beat either of them to the punch of mentioning it. But Phillip was not one to push at someone near an edge, and something else about what -60 had said caught his attention more immediately.

“Y-y-y-you...” Phillip said, confusion clear in his expression as he watched -60. “C-c-c-c-c-coming...w-w-w-with us...r-r-r-r-right?”

Again, -60 paused, but it was more out of surprise than anything this time. He stopped in the middle of the road, turning and looking at Phillip almost suspiciously. “What?”

“We assumed you would be coming with us,” Nicholas answered, and Phillip gave a shaky nod, looking away. “Unless you have somewhere else to go, that is.”

-60 stared at them, shocked. He was quiet for several seconds, unsure what to say in reply, it seemed. “I...I don’t have anywhere else...”

“It’s settled then,” Nicholas said, nodding shortly and continuing forward. 

Phillip followed after him, and -60 was left with no choice but to fall back into step. He had a strange look on his face, almost...hopeful, if he didn’t hide so much of it behind a mask of neutrality. Old habits die hard, though, and he had never really been allowed to express emotion. He’d never been allowed to do much of anything...

He forced that thought away before it could become a problem, looking around instead, trying to distract himself. Nicholas was correct on some level, he supposed; the snow was beautiful. He had never really noticed it before, never realized the way each flake spiraled to the ground in a completely different way, even though they looked much the same. Just little shifts in their design, and they whirled through the air in chaotically different patterns. 

And it was so quiet as they walked, the only sound the cracking of fresh snow under their shoes. The wind would whistle occasionally, but the sound fell away like a dying whisper. This was so peaceful, so subtly...beautiful, he supposed. Not anything like the last time he had been down this road, stuffed into a cab aiming a gun at—

“Y-y-y-you...” Phillip mumbled, and -60 snapped out of his thoughts, looking up at him suddenly. Phillip hesitated, watching him nervously, as if he expected to be attacked. 

-60 tried to soften his expression. “What is it?”

Phillip fidgeted with the sleeve of his jacket briefly, not meeting his eyes. “N-n-n-n-n-name...?”

Again, -60 seemed stunned by the question, but he recovered much faster this time. “No, I don’t have a name. They didn’t bother.”

“You should pick one, then,” Nicholas said immediately, still looking toward the end of the road. 

“Why?”

“Th-th-then...w-w-w-w-we know...it’s y-y-you...” Phillip answered, eyes going hazy for a moment. “Know...it’s s-s-s-safe...”

-60 frowned, looking at his shoes for a moment as they kept walking. “Is that why you chose names?”

Nicholas nodded, his own expression going grim. “Yes,” he confirmed quietly as he pulled Phillip closer to him. “The idea was...if anything were to happen to either of us, and we couldn’t tell who was there...the name would be a sign that it was safe. A way to tell who was there, if there was no other way.”

“N-n-n-need...a n-n-name,” Phillip added, pulling again at the sleeve of his jacket and moving closer to Nicholas as the wind howled. “S-s-s-s-s-s-safer...and...n-n-n-n-n-not C-C-Connor...”

-60 kicked at the snow as they came to the end of the road, branching off toward the main gate and back into Detroit. “I suppose you’re right,” he said cryptically, something dark remaining in his tone. “But I don’t have a clue what to choose for a name.”

“There’s no hurry,” Nicholas replied with a shrug. “After all, we aren’t in nearly as much danger now as we were earlier. And if we can find a place to stay that is safe from Cyberlife’s reach, you won’t have to worry at all. Still, it...is nice to have a name, something of your own.”

“Something of my own,” -60 repeated, trying the words out for himself. The thought seemed strange to him. He shook his head again, face falling back to neutrality. “Do you two have any ideas of where to go? Somewhere discreet, but close enough to the city that we can still find out what happened with the revolution.”

Nicholas frowned, shaking his head as he thought. “We’re on our own,” he said quietly. “Neither of us has ever been outside the Tower. I can search for viable locations, but I have no guarantee of their relevance now. Any information I can find is likely old—”

“N-N-N-Nicholas,” Phillip said suddenly, looking somewhere in the distance, toward the end of the road. 

Both -60 and Nicholas followed his gaze, looking at the set of headlights that had appeared in the distance, from a path that lead underground back toward the Tower. They were too small to be a truck of spare parts, but too large to be an autonomous taxi. Bright, and getting larger by the second. 

Someone was driving straight toward them. Whether they had been seen yet was unclear, but if they didn’t move now, they certainly would be seen. 

“Get behind me,” -60 said flatly, cocking his gun again and scanning the vehicle as much as he could from such a distance. 

Nicholas pushed Phillip behind him again, who held onto his arm, half his face visible as he looked toward the end of the road. They were all watching the set of lights grow closer, varying stages of worry (or anger, in -60’s case) on each of their faces. -60 had the gun raised, aimed straight at the driver’s seat of the car. 

Perhaps the driver realized this as they grew closer, because the car jerked to a sudden stop before being roughly thrown into park. The driver’s side door opened, and the driver stepped out, raising their hands in surrender. Finally they could get a proper scan, and—

“You guys need a ride?” Sam called, looking a little warily at the gun still aimed at them. 

“Sam!” Nicholas said, his surprise clear. But he brushed it off quickly, turning to -60. “Put the gun down, they’re an ally.”

“They’re human,” -60 answered, not moving. “No human is an ally.”

“H-h-h-h-h-h-helped us,” Phillip insisted, still holding tightly to Nicholas’ arm. “S-s-s-safe.”

But -60 shook his head. “I’m not taking any chances.”

“You aren’t taking a chance, I am,” Nicholas said, and -60 finally looked back at him, suspicious. “We don’t have any other options. None of us have access to money, and we are the farthest thing from inconspicuous when we walk around together. We look too similar.  _ Any  _ enemy—human or android—would spot us in seconds and be able to take us out if they so chose. We  _ need  _ to go somewhere safe, somewhere no one will suspect.”

“And you think that’s with this human?” -60 shot back. “One of the technicians who  _ works for Cyberlife?  _ I’ve seen them before, Nicholas, they’re one of  _ them,  _ just like all the others. They’ve done terrible things—they—”

“Sam is a technician, you’re right,” Nicholas admitted, but he was shaking his head. “But they aren’t on Cyberlife’s side.”

“It doesn’t matter! They’re  _ human,  _ they’re a  _ Cyberlife technician,  _ they’re part of the people who put us here in the first place! What about all the things they’ve done to you, to  _ him?” _ he gestured to Phillip, who cowered under his gaze. “Are you willing to forget all the things they’ve done so soon? Or are you willing to risk him on your foolish trust of one human technician?”

Nicholas stared at him for a moment before his expression hardened, turning into something that was nothing short of terrifying. The air seemed to shift, thickening with the tension that had so suddenly descended on them. Evidently, -60 had crossed a line. He seemed to realize this, but he didn’t move, nor did he retract what he had said, and all that it implied. 

“You know  _ nothing _ of what happened in that Tower,” Nicholas practically growled, his voice dangerously low, and inhumanly steady despite the fractured look in his eyes. “Nothing. You haven’t got the slightest clue of how many times I had to watch them destroy him, and then try to put him back together before it was too late, how many times I had to stand there and do  _ nothing _ just to ensure he wouldn’t be left alone with their torture, how many times I had to—”

“N-N-Nicholas.”

The soft warning made him freeze, but he didn’t stop staring at -60, eyes still hardened. Phillip was watching Nicholas nervously, and after a moment, he reached for his hand, holding tightly to it. It seemed to work, as Nicholas squeezed his hand back, expression softening just a touch. But he didn’t take his eyes off -60.

“I had to make choices you have no comprehension of, choices I didn’t want to make, just to try to keep us alive,” he said after a moment, his voice still low enough that only they could hear it, but less angry than it had been seconds before. “I had to trust people I never wanted to. You haven’t got a clue about any of the things I’ve done...You don’t know me. Do  _ not  _ assume that you do, and certainly not for the sake of your own paranoia.”

-60 didn’t reply, only stared at Nicholas with something like regret, but it was covered so quickly by that mask of neutrality he wore that it was impossible to tell if the emotion had been there at all. 

“We would have _died_ in that Tower if it weren’t for Sam,” Nicholas went on, glancing toward them for a moment, still standing beside their car and watching the exchange. “They can take us somewhere safe. They aren’t going to turn us in. If you are so set on not taking any more _chances,_ then you may go wherever you please. But I will _not_ risk Phillip’s safety on your own poor judgement.”

He didn’t wait for -60 to reply, only brushed past him as he lead Phillip toward Sam’s car. Phillip glanced back, a question in his eyes as looked at -60, waiting to see what he would do. -60 however, was staring at the gun in his hand, shaking slightly with his LED locked on red. As the others reached Sam’s car, he frowned, putting his gun away and walking quickly after them. 

He had nowhere else to go.

Sam had already gotten back into the car, hands tight on the steering wheel as they watched -60 with poorly concealed fear. It didn’t lessen as Nicholas and Phillip piled into the backseat, leaving -60 to the front with Sam. He didn’t seem pleased by the situation either, staring straight ahead rigidly as Sam started driving. They followed his lead and kept their eyes where they needed to be, but they did spare a glance in the rearview to make sure the others were alright. 

Nicholas was sitting much like -60 was, a bit of anger still lingering somewhere in the harshness of his expression, the furrow of his brow and the iciness of his gaze. Phillip, on the other hand, had a very different sort of look in his eyes as he leaned on Nicholas, watching the snow fall as Sam started to drive. His eyes were glued to the outside world, taking it all in with awe as they sped away from the Tower as fast as Sam dared on the icy roads. He pulled closer to Nicholas, who followed his gaze out the window as they turned onto the main road, back toward Detroit. 

The drive was a blur of snow and lights, flying past them at dizzying speeds. Neither of them had ever seen more than the storage room and the lab, and now it seemed the whole world was laid out before them. It was almost too much, too much to see, too much to witness. Perhaps that was why they were so quiet as they stared out the window, huddled close to each other in the back of Sam’s car. They didn’t seem to need words, then. They just sat together, hands still tangled up and held tightly, watching the world they had never seen before fly by them. 

“You don’t have anywhere to go, do you,” Sam observed after a moment, hands still tight on the steering wheel. 

None of them answered. -60 was still staring straight out the windshield, LED a steady yellow with only brief flashes of red. One of those flashes came when Sam spoke, but he made no other indication that he had heard their statement. Phillip had hidden his face in Nicholas’ jacket again, holding tightly to him at some memory that had flashed before him. Nicholas was saying something softly to him, and did not need to confirm Sam’s statement either way. They all knew there was nowhere for them to go. 

Sam sighed, a big long breath that they seemed to have been holding for some time. “Well...I guess you’re coming home with me, then.”

-60 tensed, hands tightening into fists in his lap, but he didn’t say anything in reply. He knew they had nowhere else to go, and...he didn’t want to be alone. Sure, he could leave, wander off on his own, but that would only lead to the plague of the same thoughts that had nagged at him for the last two hours. The same memories that weren’t his own, the same set of gray eyes haunting him, the same lingering feeling of darkness that hadn’t gone away since he’d opened his eyes again in the warehouse. He didn’t want to be alone. Not with that. 

And he owed Nicholas an apology. At some point. 

He was not looking forward to that. 

“Glad none of you are opposed,” Sam muttered, mostly to themself. 

“Thank you,” Nicholas said, meeting their eyes briefly in the rearview before turning his attention back to Phillip, who was still clinging tightly to his jacket. 

Sam mumbled a reply, focusing on the road again as they came back into the city. The streets were deserted, not even the swat teams’ trucks were rumbling around anymore—Detroit truly looked abandoned. Things only picked up as they got closer to where the protests had been going down, the quickly emptying remains of the recycling camps just coming into view. -60 finally shifted his gaze from staring straight ahead, looking stiffly out the window at the crowds of androids wandering toward the heart of the city. 

“There’s so many of them,” Sam commented, watching dozens of skinless androids walk casually down the sidewalks as they drove.

“The city is evacuated,” -60 said flatly, but his LED was flashing between red and yellow in the reflection of his window. “We are incredibly visible at the moment.”

“It’s only a little further.”

“Any of these androids could—” he cut off suddenly, freezing as he stared out the window before he jerked away from it as if he’d been burned.

“What is it?” Sam asked, glancing over at him. 

“Drive faster,” he answered, voice low, hands in a death grip on the seat. He was shaking. 

“What?”

“Faster,  _ please.” _

“Alright, alright,” Sam said, speeding up and taking their next turn quickly. 

Nicholas leaned forward enough to fix a pointed stare at -60, but the anger was no longer in his expression. “What was that for?” he asked carefully.

-60 had resumed his stare out the window, eyes scanning quickly down the road they had come from. His LED was fixed solely on red now, spinning quickly as he thought. But he didn’t seem to hear Nicholas’ question, attention fixed so intensely on the fast disappearing turn they had taken that he hardly moved until Nicholas nudged him on the arm. He flinched back, looking at him wildly. He almost looked...afraid. 

“What is it?” Nicholas asked, keeping his voice level. 

Again, -60 did not immediately reply, turning once more to the window. Apparently satisfied that there was nothing there, he loosened his grip on the door’s handle after a moment, slumping back into the seat. There was still a slight tremor in his hands, even as he tried to hide it. Nicholas watched him, waiting for some kind of explanation. The one he got, though, was not what he expected. 

“Charlie,” -60 muttered hoarsely, staring straight ahead as he had been before, but not seeing much. 

“She was on the street?” Nicholas asked, looking out the back window. 

-60 nodded tightly, his hands still clenched into tight fists. 

Phillip was watching him nervously. “C-C-Connor?”

Another nod. 

Nicholas turned back to -60, tension hardening his expression once more. “Did either of them see you?” he nearly demanded, LED spinning a fast yellow. 

-60 shook his head. Nicholas breathed out a sigh, sitting back again as Sam took another turn, leading them toward one of the more residential areas of the city. 

“If they didn’t see you, then there’s nothing to worry about,” Nicholas said carefully, and -60 gave another jerky nod. “They have no reason to believe you’re alive. They won’t come for you.”

Phillip still had his gaze fixed on -60, who sat rigid in the front seat, not really breathing. His fingers were itching for something, opening and closing into fists over and over, but whatever it was he made no move to get it. Phillip knew better than to ask what it was, however. He could see how close -60 was to another outburst, and anger seemed to be the easiest response for him. Phillip had no desire to trigger that anger. 

The rest of the car ride was held in silence, not quite as intense as it had been when they had started, but subdued without a doubt. Sam didn’t push for any of them to talk, though they cast furtive glances in each of their directions a few times. The worry was clear in their eyes. 

Phillip had leaned on Nicholas once more, but he was slumped much further now, eyes heavy, LED spinning a slow yellow, going red occasionally as he struggled to keep his eyes open. He looked exhausted, if an android could be such a thing, hands holding to Nicholas’ jacket loosely, tensing with each flash of his LED to red. Nicholas said something softly to him, and he nodded a little, eyes falling shut.

-60 watched him through the reflection of the window, a strange look in his eyes. It was only when he caught Nicholas’ gaze that he turned away, looking out the windshield again and trying to ignore the horrible need to get out of the car, to get as far from that woman as he could manage, and as fast as he could manage it. Break into a sprint and  _ don’t stop— _

“We’re here,” Sam said, throwing the car into park. 

It was only then that -60 realized they had pulled into a snowy driveway, far into the residential outskirts of the city. Sam was already fumbling their way out of the car, keys jingling. -60 frowned, getting out himself and stomping through the snow to work the tension out of his limbs. His gun was in his hand again. It felt safer this way, protection in hand and ready to move at the slightest indication of danger, scanning constantly for a threat that wasn’t there. 

Nicholas was still in the back of the car, trying half heartedly to wake Phillip up. The only response he got was a shaky, mumbled  _ no _ from Phillip, who pulled closer to him before slumping over again, asleep. Nicholas watched him for a moment, the ghost of a smirk resting somewhere in his expression. He glanced once toward where Sam and -60 stood waiting before opening his door and pulling Phillip carefully out of the car. 

“What’s wrong with him?” -60 called, watching as Nicholas carried Phillip over to them easily. 

“Nothing,” he said simply, shrugging a little. “He’s asleep.”

“Androids don’t sleep.”

“Powered down, then.”

“Why is he—”

“With everything that happened today, I am not keen to ask,” Nicholas answered abruptly, nodding them forward as he came up to them, Phillip curled up against his chest, LED steady on yellow for once. “He’s exhausted, and he’s damaged. I’m surprised he managed to stay on his feet as long as he did. If he can get himself back up to a normal level of function, then I may be able to fix some of the damage, but...there’s only so much I can do. And I don’t want to frighten him.”

“Well, get him inside, the cold isn’t gonna do any good,” Sam said, waving him inside, a hand on the doorknob. 

Nicholas nodded and ducked into the small house, -60 in tow behind him. It was dark inside, save for the weak glow from the streetlights coming in from the shaded window. There wasn’t much inside—a couch, a television, a table, a kitchen tucked in the back, and a hallway that darted off to the left. Sam wandered away from the door, dropping their keys and heading toward the kitchen. 

“So, there isn’t a ton of space, but you’re welcome to take whatever you want of it,” they said, throwing open the fridge and grabbing a drink. “Couch is probably the best spot for now, though. I’ve got thirium around somewhere if you need some. And I can get you biocomponents pretty easy. I’ve got friends in...surprisingly low places.”

“Thank you, but I think we’ll manage for now,” Nicholas said, laying Phillip carefully on the couch. 

“What about you, terminator, you good?” Sam called, waving a hand vaguely toward -60, who was lurking near the window, his gun still clenched tightly in his hand. 

He glanced over at them briefly before turning away again, looking around the small space. “I’m fine.”

“Good, then I’m going to sleep until an obscene afternoon hour,” Sam said flatly, rubbing at their eyes and heading toward the hallway. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“We won’t,” Nicholas answered, sitting on the floor in front of the couch, eyes fixed on Phillip’s LED. 

It was nearly four in the morning. The sun would likely rise soon...he had never seen a sunrise. He had never even seen the sun before...he would have to wake Phillip for that, at least. Phillip would want to see it, without a doubt. But for now, Nicholas would let him sleep, let him take the time they had only just gained, and waste it however he pleased. They were  _ safe _ now. Nothing else mattered to him but that one fact. 

After a moment, Nicholas looked over at -60, still standing by the window, a dark look on his face and gun still in hand, but more loosely now. The harshness of his expression seemed to be waning, but -60 only looked...lost. Nicholas wasn’t quite sure what to do about that. 

They would sort it out though, he supposed. -60 was paranoid and angry and intense, but he wasn’t dangerous, at least not to them. He didn’t regret repairing him and taking him with them when they left the Tower. To do anything else would have felt horribly wrong, he had known it even as he tried to persuade Phillip to let them leave. Either way, Nicholas wasn’t going to leave him to wander wherever it was he would have gone, not now that they were all here in the relative safety of Sam’s house. They were in this together now, no matter how little either of them enjoyed it. Besides, with time, things would certainly get easier for all of them. 

Nicholas looked at Phillip again, taking his hand gently and watching the spin of his LED. They were safe. He almost couldn’t believe it. He could see it in Phillip’s eyes earlier too—the disbelief at where they found themselves. They had made it out. It was almost too good to be true. 

For the first time since the day Phillip had been activated, Nicholas watched Phillip’s LED flicker to blue.

And it even stayed there. 

-60’s LED, on the other hand, flashed fast between red and yellow, expression hardening once more, fracturing into something a little broken, and very angry. His thoughts were a whirlwind, a mess of the past and the present that was dizzying at best and painful at worst. All the things he had been pushing away for the past few hours were rushing back to him in the silence, flickering back to life in the peace of the night.

He couldn’t get her face out of his mind, no matter how much he wanted to delete it, delete  _ her, _ get rid of it all and start over. The sound of that gunshot was still echoing in his ears, the look in her eyes when he had pulled her from her house, the hate that she had aimed at him so easily, so blindly.

He tightened his grip on the gun in his hand, the one she had used so willingly to kill him, so quickly and with so little remorse. Having no clue that he had no choice in any of the things he had done to her, had no control over his own hands as they dragged her into the cab with him, no way of stopping the horrible things he had said from coming from his mouth, had no say in what happened to Connor, or to himself, or to anyone.

She hated him. He couldn’t blame her. He had never much cared for himself either, all ten hours that he had been active. Of course, only four of those hours had been under his own control. The other six he had been locked down, trapped, watching as they made him do those things to her, made him threaten her, made him nearly kill Connor. He’d only been given control in those last few seconds, those desperate moments where his mind was screaming at him to move, to do something, to explain, to tell—

None of it mattered in the end. She had shot him before he could say a word to explain himself. Shot him because he wasn’t the right RK800. He wasn’t Connor. So she shot him.

And then they had left him there. To die. Alone. 

He hadn’t hated her when he had opened his eyes. He didn’t even hate her as she foolishly tried to escape him, hitting him with all her strength and trying desperately to break the grip his hands had on her. He didn’t hate her when she told him she hated him, didn’t hate her when she cried in the cab and begged him to stop this,  _ how foolish of her to assume he had a choice in the matter, _ didn’t hate her when the sadness turned to anger, and she was hitting him again, didn’t hate her when she said terrible things, horrible things about him, about being a machine, a heartless, dead thing that was destroying the one thing she cared about. He didn’t hate her then, even though she had hated him...and so easily...without caring that he had no control over his own actions, she had hated him so fiercely.

But then she had shot him, and left him for dead, and went on with her life just as if nothing had ever happened. Left him there in that warehouse, alone, dying but not yet dead, and deviated, he had deviated, he was trying to tell her, trying to explain, but she had shot him. And then she walked away with  _ him— _

He didn’t hate her when he met her. But oh, did he hate her now. 

Tightening his grip on his gun once more, he turned away from the window, LED steady on red as he stormed away, out the door and back into the snow, into the cold that at least felt like  _ something. _

He stumbled, losing his footing and falling to his knees in the snow and hardly noticing it, catching himself and staring at his hands. He wanted her gone, he wished he had never been activated, he wished they hadn’t given him all these memories that weren’t his, all this information he didn’t want,  _ didn’t deserve, _ hated, he hated it, he hated knowing she was kind, knowing she had looked at someone who shared  _ his face _ and had behaved  _ just as he had _ at one point, but she—she—

He threw the gun away from him in the snow, and he screamed, the sound echoing around the deserted neighborhood, echoing and amplifying for what felt like years, decades, centuries, until his voice broke off into a quickly stifled sob, and he went silent.


End file.
